THE 
HEART  OF   PEACE 


BY 

LAURENCE  HOUSMAN 


I.    THE  HEART  OF  PEACE 


THE  HEART  OF  PEACE 


BY 

LAURENCE  HOUSMAN 


BOSTON 

SMALL,   MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1919 

By  small,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

(imcorforated) 


/Second  Printing,  March,  1919 


libhary 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  HEART  OF  PEACE 

PAGE 

A  Georgic 3 

The  Call  of  the  Blood 5 

Pax  Vobiscum 9 

The  Land  of  Promise 12 

Evensong 13 

Invitation 15 

The  Quick  and  the  Dead 16 

The  Call  of  Winter 18 

The  True  Lover 20 

Farewell  to  Town 23 

Song 26 

Henri  Pol:  Bird-Lover 27 

The  Living  Miracle 33 

St.  Francis  to  His  Lady  of  Poverty     ....  35 

Easter  Dawn 36 

II.  POEMS  OF  WAR-TIME 

A  Goodly  Heritage 39 

The  Bands  of  Orion 43 

Harvest  (1914) 45 

The  New  Narcissus 48 

Blind  Love 50 

Search-Lights 52 

Corpus  Christi 55 

The  Leavened  Bread 57 

The  Crossway 61 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Crusader's  Tomb 63 

Armageddon  —  and  After 65 

III.     BEAUTIFUL  HEART 
Beautiful  Heart 71 

IV.     MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Eheu,  Fugaces!  Mary,  First  Princess  of  Great 

Britain  and  Ireland 85 

Cradle-Song 90 

"  Withershins  " 91 

The  Iron  Age 94 

The  Ballad  of  Dead  Judge  Jeffreys  ....  95 

The  Wood-Maze 97 

Concerning  Kisses 100 

The  Old  Moon 104 

Absent  and  Present 106 

In  a  Garden 108 

Love  at  the  Farm 110 

The  Two  Loves 112 

A  Song  of  the  Dales 115 

CORIN  AT  THE   GatE 118 

Comparisons 122 

Signs  and  Wonders 124 

The  Prayer 126 

Song 127 

The  Lover's  Knot 128 

Old  Svvanage 130 

Gaffer  at  the  Fair 134 

The  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients 136 

The  Marathon  Race  (1908) 137 

Heroes 139 


THE  HEART  OF  PEACE 


A  GEORGIC 

Come,  tender  Age,  contain  my  blood, 
And  tame  it  to  thy  gentler  moods. 
From  fields  where  once  it  ran  in  flood, 
Down  into  woodland  solitudes. 
There,  where  the  boughs 
Soft  music  make, 
I  hear  the  wood-dove's  voice  awake : 

"  Take  two  cows,  Taffy !     Taffy,  take 
Two  cows ! " 

I  am  not  he  who  comes  for  cows ; 
I  seek  no  herd  or  grazing-plot : 
Here,  under  roof  of  rustling  boughs, 
0  tempting  voice,  you  tempt  me  not ! 
But  oh,  the  meek. 
The  pleading  tone. 
With  which  she  makes  the  theft  her  own ! 
«  Take  two  cows,  Taffy !     Taffy,  take 
Two  cows !  " 

S 


A  GEORGIC 

No  Welshman  I :  but  if  I  were, 

That  word  should  stand  for  wisdom  now; 
And  blither  than  the  wind  I'd  fare, 
For  change  of  heart  and  change  of  air, 
Back  to  my  native  wilds,  and  there 

Get  me  three  acres  and  a  cow ; 
And  gambling  on  that  smaller  stake 
A  cleaner  reputation  make. 

In  honest  minds,  than  he  does  now !  — 
And  hear  among  the  waving  boughs 
That  voice  which  so  much  grace  allows : 

"  Take  two  cows,  TafFy !     Taffy,  take 
Two  cows ! " 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD 

Wheee,  among  the  midland  hills, 
Wooded  blue  the  distance  fills, 
Years  ere  I  became  a  man 
Western  ways  my  fancy  ran : 
Ere  its  tide  was  up  to  flood 
Westward,  westward  turned  my  blood. 

Hills  on  which  the  day  went  down. 
Mists  that  rose  from  Malvern  town, 
Severn's  windings,  Worcester's  towers 
Beaconed  all  my  boyhood's  hours : 
Ere  my  feet  could  run  a  mile 
How  the  distance  seemed  to  smile ! 

Over  highways  far  descried 
East  and  west  the  world  went  wide ; 
But  the  steeps  of  rising  day 
Never  won  my  heart  away : 
Twiliglit  fell,  and  in  my  breast 
Burned  the  fever  of  the  west. 
5 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD 

Oft  since  then,  from  mart  and  street 
Westward  have  I  turned  my  feet, 
Facing,  as  the  daylight  fails. 
The  dark  border-land  of  Wales  — 
Hills  which  keep  with  rugged  face 
Watch  against  an  alien  race. 

Those  dark  hills,  by  blood  embrued, 
Hold  embraced  a  deathless  feud ; 
There  embosomed,  buried  deep. 
How  the  murdered  ages  sleep ! 
In  the  land  for  which  I  pine 
Race  is  still  the  border-line. 

Challenged  by  that  stubborn  face, 
I  confess  my  English  race ; 
From  my  blood  an  answer  runs  — 
"  You  I  love,  but  not  your  sons !  " 
'Tis  the  west  land,  not  its  breed, 
Spurs  my  eager  feet  to  speed. 

'Mid  the  silence  of  her  hills 
Soft  and  clear  the  curlew  shrills, 
Out  across  a  driven  sky 
Wind-blown  plovers  beat  and  cry, 
6 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD 

Still  with  passionate  unrest 
Guarding  the  unsheltered  nest. 

Wind  and  wasteland,  sound  and  sight, 
Minister  to  my  delight; 
Only  at  some  lonely  farm 
Darts  the  look  suspecting  harm ; 
Only  man,  on  man  his  mate. 
Turns  the  counter  glance  of  hate. 

English  foot  on  field  or  hill 

Seems  to  him  invasion  still; 

Quick  at  sight  his  thought  grows  hot, — 

You  are  that  which  he  is  not : 

Though  it  held  no  horse  before, 

Taffy  locks  his  stable  door! 

Ere  you  question,  Taffy  cries : 
"  I  am  telling  you  no  lies  !  " 
Ere  you  hint  a  disbelief, 
Taffy  swears  he  is  no  thief: 
Loudly  he,  with  braggart  stir. 
Boasts  a  blameless  character. 

Aye,  ye  hills,  'tis  true  indeed, — 
I  am  of  an  alien  breed ; 

7 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD 

All  the  wrong  your  bards  have  sung 
Sharpens  still  the  Welshman's  tongue ; 
He,  for  fear  lest  foe  go  fed, 
Puts  no  salt  into  his  bread! 

Blood,  which  is  not  mine  to  change, 
Draws  me  west,  but  makes  it  strange : 
From  the  hills  which  hem  me  round 
Ever  comes  a  warning  sound: 
"  Till  the  friendly  life-blood  fails, 
Keep  you  from  the  men  of  Wales ! " 


8 


PAX  VOBISCUM 

Come,  and  give  me  a  hand,  then; 

And  I  will  give  you  a  mind, 
And  a  place  for  your  feet  to  stand  then, 

Which  only  the  wise  can  find. 

Patient  it  there  lies  waiting 

The  look  of  the  willing  eye : 
O  hearts,  that  have  turned  from  hating, 

How  oft  have  ye  passed  it  by ! 

Ye  have  battled  in  many  places, 
And  many  foul  deeds  have  done ; 

But  back  with  their  old  embraces 
Come  moon,  and  stars,  and  sun. 

Ye  have  taken  your  toll,  and  given 
Slaughter  for  slaughter  again; 

But  alike  to  all  who  have  striven 
Are  sunlight,  and  wind,  and  rain. 
9 


PAX  VOBISCUM 

These  are  the  ancient  givers, 
Merciful,  just,  and  free. 

As  the  downward  flowing  of  rivers 
To  the  need  of  a  wave-worn  sea. 


For  the  body  is  more  than  raiment, 
The  life  much  better  than  meat ; 

And  having  for  these  made  payment, 
The  comfort  of  rest  is  sweet. 

Let  your  raiment  henceforth  be  kindness, 
Your  meat  the  service  of  man ; 

To  lift  from  his  eyes  the  blindness 
Which  fell  when  sorrow  began. 

Where  milk  and  honey  are  flowing. 
Let  meekness  possess  the  earth. 

And  your  reaping  be  as  your  sowing 
In  the  goodly  field  of  man's  worth. 

So,  in  the  dwellings  of  mortals. 

Forgiveness  shall  spring  like  grass, 

And  love  be  a  light  in  your  portals. 
And  sorrow  as  winds  that  pass ; 
10 


PAX  VOBISCUM 

And  round  you,  like  sons  and  daughters 
Of  hearts  that  have  ceased  to  grieve, 

Come  the  murmur  of  windless  waters, 
And  the  singing  silence  of  eve. 


11 


THE  LAND  OF  PROMISE 

Fair  camp  of  God,  how  goodly  are  thy  tents, 
Within  whose  midst  the  milk  and  honey  flow ! 

For  thee  the  promised  land  gives  forth  her  scents, 
For  thee  the  hanging  garden  crowned  with  snow, 

And  softer  dews  than  Hermon's,  and  more  shade 
Than  rocks  beneath  the  boughs  of  Lebanon; 

For  thee,  O  fair  delight,  all  things  were  made, 

And  they  which  marred  them,  the  false  gods,  are 
gone. 

For  this  is  never  Canaan's  land,  but  Greece, 

Where  shines  the  face  and  not  the  frown  of  God; 

And  never  Gideon's  but  Jason's  fleece ; 
And  this  Apollo's  bough,  not  Aaron's  rod. 

The  night  breathes  warm,  and  the  tent  doors  are 

wide; 
And  fleece  and  bough  lie  close  against  thy  side. 

12 


EVENSONG 

Weary  pilgrim,  rest  thy  powers ! 
Nature  hath  her  reaping  hours, 
Thou,  so  rich  in  memories  stored, 
Blend  thine  own  with  Nature's  hoard. 
Other  milestones  distant  far, — 
See  thy  last  in  yonder  star ! 

Where  the  roseate  doors  of  rest 
Open  in  the  deepening  west, 
O'er  thy  quarters  for  this  night 
Hesperus  upholds  his  light ; 
And  the  folding  dusk  shall  bring 
Sleep  to  be  thy  covering. 

Pain  and  toil,  as  partners  here, 
Mingle  for  remembrance  dear ; 
Couldst  thou  sever  this  from  these, 
Rest  were  robbed  of  half  her  ease; 
Could  thy  heart  forget  the  cost. 
Labour  done  were  labour  lost. 
13 


EVENSONG 

Pilgrim,  in  thine  evening  skies 
Thou  canst  make  no  stars  arise ; 
Yet  may  Time,  on  gentler  stream, 
Gather  and  reflect  the  gleam, 
Where  the  widening  ripples  yield 
Gleanings  from  a  distant  field. 

Here,  in  fellowship  with  thee, 
Earth  attains  tranquillity : 
Through  the  reaping-field  of  dreams 
Evening  draws  her  shadowy  teams, 
And  a  young  moon,  newly  born, 
Sets  her  sickle  to  the  corn. 


14 


INVITATION 

Softly  tread, 

Who  here  arrive! 

I  am  dead, 

You  are  alive. 
I  am  dead :  fear  not  to  waken 
Dust  your  footfall  leaves  unshaken; 
But,  if  ye  would  share  my  bed, 
Careless  livers,  softly  tread! 

Seed  and  flower 

Of  bending  grasses 

Feed  the  hour 

As  it  passes. 
Herein  dust,  which  once  was  flesh, 
Keeps  a  faded  memory  fresh; 
Herein  flesh,  which  once  was  dust. 
Gives  to  earth  a  standing  trust. 


16 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD 

Evening  rose  from  a  bed  of  rain, 

And  out  of  the  west  day  dawned  again; 

With  outstretched  fingers  of  falling  light 

She  touched  the  tree-tops  and  made  them  bright; 

And  under  the  leaves,  a-spark  with  dew, 

The  cry  of  the  blackbird  sparkled  too ; 

And  every  hillock,  and  glade,  and  tree 

Was  filled  with  the  makings  of  melody, 

As  the  dying  light  streamed  miles  along 

Through  murmur  of  water,  and  leaf,  and  song. 

Then  out  of  the  east,  in  a  paling  mist, 
The  dead-faced  moon  came  up  to  be  kissed : 
Slow  and  solemn  we  watched  her  rise, 
A  face  of  wonder  with  cavernous  eyes. 
There  life  is  changeless  and  time  without  worth, 
There  nothing  dies  or  is  brought  to  birth ; 
Her  day  is  done,  she  is  filled  with  dearth, 
Old  she  looks  to  the  young  green  earth, 

16 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD 

Old  as  the  foam  of  a  frozen  shore, 
Old  —  for  nothing  can  age  her  more ! 

O  young  green  earth,  go  down  into  night. 
Rejoice  in  thy  youth  ti)l  its  days  are  o'er! 
Time  speeds,  life  spends ;  therein  is  delight. 
Till  youth  and  the  years  can  age  no  more. 


17 


THE  CALL  OF  WINTER 

Winter  gives  us  warning: 
The  grass  is  grey  below, 
'Tis  the  first  autumn  morning, 
And  spiders'  webs  show. 

The  hollyhock  that  towers 
Hangs  heavy  by  the  head. 
In  the  cups  of  the  flowers 
Cold  bees  lie  dead. 


The  tree-tops  are  thinning 
Where  the  fruit  stays  thick, 
And  yellow  leaves  are  spinning 
To  the  dead  from  the  quick. 

»Tis  the  old  trouble: 
Southward  goes  the  sun; 
Here,  in  dust  and  rubble, 
Summer  fires  are  done. 
18 


THE  CALL  OF  WINTER 

But  among  the  embers 
Rake,  and  we  shall  find 
Something  of  December's 
Nearer  to  the  mind. 

Dearer  to  desire 
Shall  the  long  nights  be: 
Light  the  winter  fire ; 
Come,  and  sit  with  me! 


19 


THE  TRUE  LOVER 

So  much  have  friends  deceived  me 
And  fickle  lovers  grieved  me, 

Of  so  much  wealth. 

And  youth,  and  health 
Hath  travelling  Time  relieved  me, 

That  being  thereby  sot  free, 

Now  back  I  come  to  Thee. 

By  such  dark  fates  befriended. 

Deserted,  unattended. 

O'er  hard  and  rough 

I've  jogged  enough, 
Down  ways  that  never  ended. 

So,  footsore  though  I  be. 

Here  back  I  come  to  Thee. 

But  wouldst  Thou  further  ask  me 
Of  my  deserts,  or  task  me 

To  show  Thee  why, 

Abandoned,  I 
80 


THE  TRUE  LOVER 

Seek  Thee, —  and  so  unmask  me 
Of  any  proof  or  plea 
That  brings  me  back  to  Thee : 

Lord,  in  such  uncouth  places 
Have  I  beheld  kind  faces, 

Where  dross  for  gold 

Was  bought  and  sold 
Have  met  such  kind  embraces, — 

Such  memories,  oh  see ! 

Have  brought  me  back  to  Thee ! 

For  man,  that  was  Thy  making 
Sleeps  long,  but  at  awaking 

Finds  in  his  breast 

Th'  unbidden  guest; 
So,  after  all  forsaking, 

As  blind  men  made  me  see. 

Here  back  I  come  to  Thee. 

A  thousand  times  man  faileth. 
Him  trouble  so  assaileth; 

Heart  cries  in  haste, 

"  All  flesh  is  waste !  " 
Yet  here,  too,  love  prevaOeth. 
21 


THE  TRUE  LOVER 

So,  when  thereof  I  taste 
In  hearts  that  are  not  free 

To  freedom's  Home  I  haste ; 
And  back  I  come  to  Thee. 


£2 


FAREWELL  TO  TOWN 

Now  with  grey  hair  begins  defeat, 
Our  sap  is  running  downward; 

So  turn  we  from  the  hurrying  street, 
And  look  no  further  townward. 

'Mid  yonder  crowds,  o'er  roof  and  mart, 
A  hundred  clocks  are  striking 

The  hour  for  us  who  played  a  part 
Which  was  not  to  their  liking. 

And  this  is  wisdom:  not  to  carp 
With  wasted  breath  grown  wordy; 

For  if  you  harp  too  long  your  harp 
Becomes  a  hurdy-gurdy. 

For  wearied  hand  and  laboured  head 
That  fail  to  gain  their  guerdon, 

Farewell,  when  once  the  word  is  said 
Makes  light  the  lifted  burden. 
23 


FAREWELL  TO  TOWN 

Farewell !     Far  harder  was  the  word 

To  beg  what  men  deny  us. 
We  harped  our  best;  a  few  have  heard, 

And  others  have  passed  by  us! 

Leave  strumming  at  the  doors  of  inns 

To  vagabonds  and  sharpers ! 
Where  men  seek  minstrels  for  their  sins 

They  shall  not  lack  for  harpers. 

So  take  the  hint,  the  hands  of  Time 

Are  pointing,  not  unkindly, 
Back  to  the  hills  we  used  to  climb 

While  prospects  beckoned  blindly : 

To  where,  by  wood-tracks  roughly  laid, 
With  hoofs  and  cart-ruts  dinted, 

Some  hamlet  lies  too  still  for  trade, 
Where  coin  was  never  minted : 

Where,  cresting  lone,  a  wind-vane  stands 
High  on  a  time-worn  steeple, 

And  blesses  with  its  circling  hands 
A  still  untravelled  people. 
24 


FAREWELL  TO  TOWN 

There  let's  away,  while  blood  runs  warm, 
Before  the  heart's  beat  weakens, 

And  roam  again  with  cloud  and  storm 
Along  the  windy  beacons, 

And  watch  by  field  and  wooded  coast, 
While  flying  autumn  yellows, 

The  starling  gather  up  his  host. 
The  swallow  call  his  fellows. 

No  need  is  now  for  looking  back; 

If  any  wish  to  find  us, 
They,  too,  can  follow  in  our  track 

The  road  we  leave  behind  us. 

Or  if  they  liefer  would  forget, 

'Tis  easy  to  ignore  us ; 
Farther  and  farther  from  them  yet 

The  road  that  lies  before  us. 


SONG 

Down  to  death,  my  dear,  together 

You  and  I  a-drifting  go, 
Light  on  life  as  any  feather 

Lies  on  air.     Reluctant?     No! 
Like  two  kites  released  from  tether, 
Wafted  through  delightful  weather, 
Down  to  death,  my  dear,  together 

You  and  I  a-drifting  go! 


26 


HENRI  POL:  BIRD-LOVER 

{Died  June  15,  1918) 

Bon  soir,  bon  soir,  Monsieur  Pol ! 

For  they  tell  me  now  you  are  dead. 

Go,  then ;  and  peace  to  your  soul, 

And  warm  like  a  nest  be  your  bed, — 

A  warm,  well-feathered,  well-weathered  nest, 

To  give  rest  to  the  bird-wise  head ! 

In  the  place  of  the  Tuileries 
It  is  eleven  by  the  clock. 
And  the  birds  wait  in  the  trees, — 
They  wait ;  but  you  do  not  come. 
The  small  beaks  sharpen  and  knock 
On  the  boughs,  and  the  quick  throats  trill, 
And  the  bad  little  voices  scold 
Their  lover  because  he  is  late 
With  the  crumbs  which  he  used  to  spill 
In  the  pathway  where  other  passed, — 
Because,  in  service  grown  old, 
27 


HENRI  POL:  BIRD-LOVER 

He  has  failed  them  at  last! 

Hark,  how  they  clatter  and  fret 

And  complain  !  —  mate  clamours  to  mate, 

Crying  aloud  for  the  crumbs 

Which  you  gave,  which  they  ate: 

Day  goes,  another  day  comes ;  — 

Another:  when  will  they  forget? 

A  week,  may  it  be,  or  a  moon, 
Or  will  it  run  on  to  a  year, 
Till  the  world  is  again  in  tune. 
And  the  gardens  all  full  of  song  — 
Babblers  begging  a  boon? 
Will  the  legend  of  you  last  so  long, 
Will  the  tale  be  told  to  their  young, 
When  you  no  longer  appear? 

Sweetly  a  story  is  told 
How  birds  as  they  cross  the  brine, 
Bound  for  the  far-off  land, — 
Veering  away  to  the  west 
Out  of  the  southward  line  — 
Come  to  a  watery  shoal 
Sunk  in  a  sea  of  glass : 
No  place  for  a  foot  to  stand. 
28 


HENRI  POL:  BIRD-LOVER 

They  poise,  they  hover  and  quest 
This  way  and  that ;  but  in  vain !  — 
There  can  they  find  no  rest, — 
There  having  come,  they  pass. 

But  because  in  the  days  of  old 

Just  there  a  rock  rose  dry 

For  hungry  claws  to  take  hold 

And  tired  wings  cease  to  fly, — 

There,  again  and  again, 

They  come ;  and  the  years  pass  by. 

So,  to  the  Tuileries, 
Shall  not  the  birds  still  come 
When  morning  clocks  strike  eleven, 
To  sit  and  wait  in  the  trees 
For  the  legendary  crumb, 
And  listen  while  old  birds  tell 
Their  tale  which  the  tolling  bell 
Ever  brings  back  to  mind : 
How  to  the  ways  of  earth, — 
Wingless,  grey-haired,  and  kind 
To  them  in  their  feathered  mirth. 
Came  daily  with  hands  outspread 
29 


HENRI  POL:  BIRD-LOVER 

A  gentle  Angel  from  Heaven, 

Who  was  known  in  the  breaking  of  bread? 

And  you,  Monsieur  Pol, —  you  too, — 
Have  you  a  ghost  that  can  walk? 
Have  you  an  ear  that  can  hear 
Your  songsters  who  prattle  and  talk 
Of  you  —  still  of  you  —  still  of  you? 
Is  there  no  room  in  the  grave 
For  the  seeing  mind  to  remember 
How  boldly  they  used  to  behave 
In  spring,  but  how  in  December, 
Cowed  by  the  winter's  cold. 
When  the  sap  of  life  ran  dry, 
When  the  little  bodies  were  old. 
And  the  wings  too  weak  to  fly. 
They  would  come  at  your  feet  to  He, 
So  sure  you  would  understand :  — 
"  See  me,  see  how  I  die! 
O  friend,  reach  me  a  hand !  " 
And  you  would  gather  and  fold, 
And  gently  bear  them  away 
From  the  bitter  perishing  cold 
And  blast  of  tlie  winter's  day. 
To  a  corner  remote  and  calm 
30 


HENRI  POL:  BIRD-LOVER 

By  the  side  of  your  own  fire; 
And  there  in  a  hollowed  palm  — 
With  charity  filled  like  balm  — 
Give  them  their  hearts'  desire. 

O  gentle  lover  of  birds, 
Out  of  your  place  of  rest 
Throw  to  the  world  a  crumb 
Of  the  love  that  was  in  your  breast, — 
The  love  you  bore  for  the  dumb, 
The  compassion  you  had  for  the  weak, 
The  broken,  the  frail,  the  meek. 
When  daily  you  used  to  come ! 

Man  has  learned  how  to  fly ! 

His  gods  have  given  him  wings, 

And  between  them  a  heart  of  hate, 

With  a  roaring  fire  for  breath 

To  obey  the  bidding  of  kings: 

And  out  of  a  storm-rent  sky. 

And  over  a  stricken  earth. 

He  leavens  the  land  with  dearth ; 

Wherever  he  goes  he  stings, 

And  his  droppings  are  bolts  of  death! 

Unto  his  hand  hath  come 
31 


HENRI  POL:  BIRD-LOVER 

The  fruit  of  a  thousand  sowings ; 

This  is  the  feast  he  makes 

Out  of  the  grain  he  hath  strown ; 

So  now  he  beholds  the  sum 

Of  all  his  comings  and  goings ; 

Now  in  the  bread  he  breaks 

His  kingdom  on  earth  is  known. 

But  when  the  Judgment  comes, 

And  the  Trumpet  of  Life  is  blown, 

Surely  you  will  arise 

And  stand  among  saints  without  shame. 

Then  shall  the  rabble  and  rout 

Of  the  dead, —  the  slayer,  the  slain  — ? 

Watch  you,  patient  and  meek, 

Gentle,  tender,  and  wise. 

Empty  your  pocket  of  crumbs, 

Scattering  food  to  your  own, 

Filling  the  hungry  beak, 

Calling  your  birds  by  name, 

Choosing,  and  leading  them  out;  — 

There,  with  the  banquet  spread. 

Unto  your  lovers  make  known 

Once  more  in  the  breaking  of  bread. 


THE  LIVING  MIRACLE 

Here  in  a  darkened  church,  in  a  vacant  aisle, 
Far  from  the  market  cries  and  the  common  ken, 

A  woman  kneels  and  sees  from  the  altar  smile 
A  vision  of  Love  new-born  for  the  needs  of  men. 

Effortless,  lo,  at  a  word,  from  realms  divine 
Enters  the  God, —  and  there,  in  visible  Bread, 

Stands  to  be  taken :  there,  a  bodily  sign. 
Gives  Himself  as  food  to  the  lips  unfed. 

Starved    she    takes,    and    straightway    in    spirit    is 
fiUed,— 
Lifted     and     crowned,     communion    holds     with 
saints : 
Glory  about  her,  joy  in  her  pathway  spilled. 
Heaven  stands  open,  under  her  feet  earth  faints. 

Back  to  her  garret  she  goes  with  Heavenly  spoil, — 
Shapes,   for    a    pittance, —  nay,   for   a   love   un- 
priced !  — 
Seam  by  seam,  through  vigilant  hours  of  toil. 

Raiment  for  those  who  turn  their  backs  on  Christ. 
33 


THE  LIVING  MIRACLE 

You,  who  mock  at  her  faith,  what  gift  have  you 
Like  to  this  which  she  bears  in  her  heart  all  day? 

Have  you  one  miracle  left  that  your  hand  can  do, 
Mighty  in  mercy  as  this, —  till  you  raise  her  pay? 

Here,  in  a  darkened  church,  in  a  vacant  aisle, 
Far  from  the  market  cries  and  the  common  ken, 

The  woman  kneels,  and  sees  from  the  altar  smile 
A  vision  of  Love  newborn  for  the  needs  of  men. 


34 


ST.  FRANCIS  TO  HIS  LADY  OF  POVERTY 

Break  but  the  heart  that's  filled  with  Thee, 
And  men  shall  all  Thy  sweetness  know, 

As  from  the  shattered  casket,  free. 
The  precious  ointments  flow. 

Then  is  the  house  with  fragrance  filled 

Where  for  each  guest  Love  spreads  the  feast; 

And  there  of  all  her  treasure  spilled 
The  casket  lies  released. 

Ah !  with  what  pain  my  heart  has  held 
This  wonder  of  all  wonders  stored ! 

O  Beauty,  that  mine  eyes  have  spelled, 
Go  forth  to  greet  Thy  Lord! 


EASTER  DAWN 

The  leaping  heart  which  almost  burst 
For  joy,  the  eager  feet  which  ran, 

Lo,  these,  though  fain,  were  not  the  first, 
When  Love  rose  up  and  light  began. 

More  swift  with  healing  in  His  hands 

Was  He  than  man's  most  breathless  speed; 

There,  while  we  haste,  behold  He  stands 
Our  risen  Lord  raised  up  indeed. 

The  brightness  of  His  Father's  face 
No  shades  of  darkness  could  enclose: 

Before  we  sought  His  resting-place, 
Swifter  than  light  again  He  rose! 


36 


II.    POEMS  OF  WAR-TIME 


A  GOODLY  HERITAGE 

In  the  palace  of  our  Lord 

Wise  and  lovely  things  lay  stored, 

Deeply  hidden,  fenced  about: 

God  made  man  to  search  them  out. 

There,  held  safe  from  age  to  age, 

Slept  the  goodly  heritage. 

Soul  was  given  him  for  a  key 
To  unlock  the  mystery  ; 
Heart  for  courage,  eyes  for  sight. 
Hands  to  handle  it  aright : 
Through  the  fastened  gates  the  prize 
Gleamed  like  peeps  of  Paradise. 

There,  to  bless  his  future  need, 
Man  beheld  new  forms  of  speed. 
Wondrous  shapes  in  stone  and  steel, 
Cube,  and  curb,  and  banded  wheel, — 
Steeds  with  fiery  breath  that  run 
Clad  in  traces  of  the  sun: 
39 


A  GOODLY  HERITAGE 

Saw  thick  darkness  change  to  light, 
Feet  up-mount  equipped  for  flight, 
Heaviest  mass  a  lifted  load, 
And  the  world  an  open  road, 
Linking  up  from  end  to  end 
Man  with  fellow  man  his  friend. 

In  that  vision  blest  his  eyes 
Watched  the  coming  Paradise, — 
City  walls,  whose  upward  span, 
Statured  to  the  scale  of  man, 
Sheltered,  amid  streets  of  gold. 
Fruits  and  fountains  manifold. 

So,  for  that  far-distant  day, 

Sleep  and  sloth  he  put  away; 

For  the  gain  of  that  great  spoil 

Body  and  brain  gave  up  to  toil ; 

In  the  palace  of  his  Lord 

Searched,  and  traced,  and  found  reward. 

Delving  amid  reefs  and  rocks, 
He  unloosed  the  magic  locks  ;  — 
Wealth  in  mine  and  mountain  stored, 
Powers  from  deep  waters  poured, 
40 


A  GOODLY  HERITAGE 

One  by  one,  with  eager  brain, 
These  he  picked  and  made  his  gain. 

Thus,  with  toil  from  age  to  age 
Man  brought  home  his  heritage; 
Wheresoe'er  his   shafts  he  drave. 
Under  wood,  or  wind,  or  wave. 
Thence  with  ministry  of  might 
Sprang  new  forms  of  life  and  light. 

And  of  what  his  toil  set  free 

Now  he  holds  the  mastery : 

Now  to  heart  and  hand  and  eyes 

Comes  possession  of  the  prize; 

Now,  as  Time  unbinds  the  spell, 

Opens  —  lo,  the  pit  of  Hell ! 

•  ••••••• 

Through  the  sundered  gates,  behold, 

Statured  to  the  scale  of  man. 
Shattered  streets  more  red  than  gold, 

Blood  where  once  sweet  waters  ran ! 

Under  cannon-guarded  walls, 

Maimed  and  bruised  with  bleeding  breast, 
Sisyphus  his  burden  hauls 

Up  to  heights  that  win  no  rest ! 
41 


A  GOODLY  HERITAGE 

Scorched  with  fire,  and  scourged  with  steel, 

Blindly  into  darkness  hurled, 
Mad  Ixion  spins  his  wheel 

Round  a  desolated  world. 

Here  the  Tree  of  Life  gives  out 
Sickness  from  a  leprous  root; 

Tantalus  his  lips  of  drought 
Strains  toward  a  poisoned  fruit. 

Shrinks  the  fountain  from  its  springs, 
Vintage  all  lies  dead  and  done; 

Icarus  has  filched  the  wings, 
Phaeton  drives  the  sun! 


THE  BANDS  OF  ORION 

Down  steps  Orion  to  the  west, 
High-headed,  starry-eyed. 

Watchful  beneath  his  warrior-crest, 
His  sword  upon  his  side. 

Amid  the  unnumbered  stars  of  night 
He  fills  his  measured  space. 

And  covers  under  points  of  light 
The  fashion  of  his  face. 

He  makes  no  gesture,  gives  no  sign ; 

Yon  form  is  all  we  know. 
So,  belt  and  scabbard  used  to  shine 

Millions  of  years  ago. 

Upon  his  brow  endures  no  frown. 
No  tumult  stirs  his  breast ; 

In  martial  stride  he  still  goes  down 
With  all  his  stars  at  rest. 
43 


THE  BANDS  OF  ORION 

Naught  can  they  tell  us  by  their  light 

What  binds  them  to  his  car : 
There,  at  the  chariot-pole  of  night 

He  stands,  a  shape  of  war. 

When  Earth  was  young  and  Night  was  old 

That  harness  he  put  on, 
And  girt  for  war,  with  nails  of  gold 

The  belted  warrior  shone. 

Now  to  the  east  he  sets  his  heel, 
Or  now  goes  westward  bound; 

And  still,  like  flies  upon  his  wheel, 
The  stirless  stars  move  round. 

Across  the  regions  of  the  night, 

Across  the  darkened  lands. 
He  travels  on  in  changeless  might, 

And  none  may  loose  his  bands. 

Onward  he  goes  with  planted  heel, 

The  charioteer  of  Mars ; 
The  Kingdoms  broken  on  his  wheel 

Are  stirless  as  the  stars. 


44: 


HARVEST 

(1914) 

It  was  the  time  of  year 

When  green  leaf  turns  to  gold, 

Earth's  harvest  did  appear 

More  full  than  hands  could  hold. 

Within  her  girth,  unspent, 

The  immemorial  food 
Of  Nature's  sacrament 

Lay  stored  for  all  her  brood. 

Boundless  from  hill  to  plain 
The  harvest-field  was  white ; 

Long  leagues  of  living  grain 
Stood  up  and  drank  the  light. 

Up  from  uneasy  rest 

The  Reaper  raised  his  form, 
He  bared  his  grisly  breast, 

His  heart  went  knit  for  storm. 
45 


HARVEST 

Westward  his  course  he  took 
A  destined  goal  to  gain. 

And  thrust  his  reaping-hook 
To  the  fair  f  lemish  plain. 

Bj  towers  of  crumbling  stone, 
Ghosts  of  an  older  strife, 

Where  no  fresh  trumpets  blown 
Shall  rend  the  dead  to  life, — 

By  time-deserted  posts, 

Where  once  loud  bugles  blew 

To  rouse  the  peaceful  hosts 
Which  sleep  at  Waterloo, — 

Where  erst  his  power  was  known 
He  smote  and  smote  again : 

With  every  stroke  lay  strown 
A  hundred  miles  of  men. 

As  back  he  went  or  forth 

A  thousand  woes  had  birth; 

Westward,  and  south,  and  north, 
He  trod  a  shrieking  earth. 
46 


HARVEST 

Of  each  beleaguered  town 
Hp  made  his  threshnig-floor, 

Smote  till  dead  walls  were  down 
Where  streets  had  lived  before ; 

Struck  with  his  flail  and  spilled, 
Till  shocks  of  scattered  grain 

In  ruined  garners  filled 
Liege,  Namur,  Louvain. 

Where  the  red  Reaper  reaped 
Down  fell  the  living  wave, 

And  quick  and  dead  lay  heaped 
In  one  tremendous  grave. 


47 


THE  NEW  NARCISSUS 

While  war  through  Flanders  sweeps  in  flood. 

And  death  goes  flaring  by, 
Above  the  steam  and  stench  of  blood 

Spring  larks  are  soaring  high ; 

And  in  the  pause  you  hear  their  song, 

While  underneath,  at  rest. 
Amid  those  mounds  of  human  wrong 

The  young  lie  in  the  nest. 

Down-nodding  to  the  pit  of  death 

The  daff'odils  are  through, 
And  shake  their  petals  full  of  breath 
Above  a  breathless  crew. 

Blithely  they  quafi^  and  cast  away 

Light  from  their  golden  eyes, 
Where,  blind  to  all  the  beams  of  day, 

The  new  Narcissus  lies : 
48 


THE  NEW  NARCISSUS 

Who,  in  that  dark  and  dreadful  hole 

Beheld  a  vision  blest, 
Saw  the  desire  of  his  young  soul. 

And  drank,  and  there  found  rest. 

Within  those  eyes,  beyond  our  ken, 
Shut  fast  from  present  use, 

The  vision  waits.     There  lie  the  men 
Who  kept  the  Christmas  Truce. 


49 


BLIND  LOVE 

"  Oh,  why  do  ye  stand  so  still,  lad, 
In  yon  strange  cloak  of  green? 

And  why  have  ye  shut  with  a  will,  lad. 
Them  eyes  as  were  once  so  keen?  " 

"  There's  a  grumble  of  guns  on  the  hUl,  lass; 

But  under  it,  where  I  lie. 
The  ground  of  my  grave  is  still,  lass; 

And  stiller  beneath  am  I." 

"  Ah,  ye  do  well  to  be  still,  lad, 
For  weary  your  days  have  been, 

With  grumble  o'  guns  on  the  hill,  lad; 
But  why  have  ye  got  on  green?  " 

"  In  the  country  where  I  have  been,  lass. 
All  blotted  with  blood  and  clay, 

Ifs  a  colour  I  haven't  seen,  lass. 
For  many  a  weary  day." 
50 


BLIND  LOVE 

"  Ah,  well  have  ye  done  to  cast,  lad, 
Your  khaki  coat  for  a  green ; 

But  why  must  ye  still  shut  fast,  lad, 
Them  eyes  I  have  not  yet  seen? 

**  What  for  do  ye  stand  so  blindly, 
When  it's  you  as  I've  longed  to  see? 

If  ye  can't  look  at  me  kindly. 
Why  did  ye  come  to  me?  " 

"  Ah,  sure,  Vm  back  to  the  place,  lass. 

Where  oft  I've  longed  to  be. 
For  a  look  at  the  bonny  face,  lass, 

I'd  be  giving  my  eyes  to  see. 

**  So  say  a  kind  prayer  for  me,  lass. 
In  a  bed  that's  lonely  and  bare; 

But  how  can  I  let  ye  see,  lass. 

The  eyes, —  when  the  eyes  ain't  there?  '* 

Blind  Love,  now  tell  me  whether 
A  ghost  finds  what  it  seeks? 

Two  lovers  stand  close  together. 

And  the  tears  run  down  their  cheeks. 


61 


SEARCH-LIGHTS 

Lord,  give  man  eyes  to  see !     'Twas  some 
Blind  fool,  for  sure,  that  said 

How  lightless  London  had  become 
A  city  of  the  dead ! 

A  city  of  the  dead !     I  would 

The  dead  again  might  rise 
To  look  upon  a  sight  so  good 

For  tired  hearts  and  eyes. 

Here,  amid  miles  of  street  and  square, 

A  curfew  without  sound 
Has  rung  its  knell ;  and  everywhere 

Men  walk  on  holy  ground. 

Along  the  now  ungarish  street, 
Which  once  shut  out  the  night, 

The  lamps  stand  veiled ;  about  their  feet 
Lie  little  pools  of  light; 
52 


SEARCH-LIGHTS 

And  over  paving-stone  and  park, 

From  life-long  vigil  loosed, 
Trees  that  had  never  known  the  dark 

Take  darkness  home  to  roost. 

And  light-shy  birds  have  come  to  town: 
Loud  through  the  night  the  cry 

Of  owls  is  heard,  and  up  and  down 
The  'bus  routes  bat-wings  ply. 

While  overhead,  on  beams  of  light. 

Like  angels  to  and  fro, 
Pale  messengers  in  level  flight 

The  leaping  search-lights  go. 

They  lift  and  lower,  they  shift  and  glance, 
Pause,  point,  then  forward  run. 

And  couch  an  ever-wheeling  lance 
Where  foeman  there  is  none. 

Now  since  our  darkness  gives  us  light 

Such  lovely  things  to  see, 
Here  let  the  tale  be  told  aright 

For  all  posterity : 

63 


SEARCH-LIGHTS 

How  through  the  years,  while  bloody  Mars 
Smote  mortals  for  their  sins, 

London's  dim  streets  were  lit  with  stars 
Because  of  Zeppelins. 

So,  at  our  need,  let  Heaven  engage 

As  kind  a  part  to  play. 
And  show  to  mortals  blind  with  rage 

The  stars  upon  their  way. 


54 


CORPUS  CHRISTI 

(How  We  kept  the  Feast  at  Karlsruhe) 

Body  of  Christ !     The  bells  were  loud, 

And  the  streets  were  thronged,  and  a  joyous  crowd 

Stood  waiting  therein  for  Thee  to  pass, 

O  Maker  of  men,  who  died  for  sin  ; 

O  Bread  of  the  Mass,  O  Body  of  Christ ! 

Life  was  heavy,  and  hearts  were  sore. 
For  over  the  world  went  the  battle's  roar ; 
But  here  were  women  with  joy  in  their  eyes, 
And  the  place  was  happy  with  children's  cries. 
And  hymns  were  singing :     O  Body  of  Christ ! 

Over  the  place  broad  wings  came  winging ;  — 

Their  hum  was  loud  above  tower  and  street. 

What  angels  are  these?     What  gift  are  they  bring- 

O  Prince  of  Peace,  to  lay  at  Thy  Feet 
In  the  sight  of  this  crowd?     O  Body  of  Christ! 

55 


CORPUS  CHRISTI 

In  honour  of  Thee  the  people  meet: 
In  lionour  of  Thee  are  the  eagles  fleet? 
They  open  their  talons,  they  let  down  death, 
And  a  hundred  bodies  are  empty  of  breath, 
And  four-score  children.     O  Body  of  Christ ! 

"  A  tooth  for  a  tooth,  and  an  eye  for  an  eye.' 
Worsliipping  Thee,  the  eagles  fly  ; 
And  because  in  Thee  they  have  put  their  trust, 
(For  righteous  arc  we,  and  our  cause  is  just) 
This  have  they  done !     O  Body  of  Christ ! 

For,  God  be  our  aid,  we  fight  with  a  foe 

Who  to  us  and  to  ours  did  even  so: 

On  us  they  came  and  slew  in  the  night, 

So  we  slay  now  in  the  noonday  light 

Their  old  and  their  young.     O  Body  of  Christ ! 

The  better  the  day,  the  better  the  deed. 
So  let  them  go,  and  give  ear,  and  take  heed! 
Now  unto  the  day  hath  the  doom  sufficed, 
O  Corpus  Christi !     O  Body  of  Christ ! 
O  Love  that  died  for  a  world  in  need ! 


56 


THE  LEAVENED  BREAD 

'  Throughout  all  Eternity, 
I  forgive  yott ;  ijou  forgive  me. 
As  our  dear  Redeemer  said, — 
'  This  the  Wine,  and  this  the  Bread.' " 

William  Blake. 

Give  Me  thy  kiss,  brother, — 

Kiss,  ere  we  part. 
That  and  no  other 

Shall  comfort  My  Heart. 

Where  the  ground  fallows, 

All  mixed  with  dross, 
Thou  from  thy  gallows 

Shalt  see  My  Cross. 

Friends  will  be  turning 

Their  faces  from  Me: 
Better  for  learning 

Thy  face  I'll  then  see, 
And  on  My  lips  burning 

Thy  last  kiss  shall  be. 
57 


THE  LEAVENED  BREAD 

Stronger  than  love  was 
Now  is  thy  hate: 
Why,  where  the  proof  was, 
Com'st  thou  so  late? 

Since  thou  wouldst  test  Me, 
Kiss,  and  have  done: 
Then  can  I  rest  Me 
From  under  the  sun. 

Man's  heart  My  school: 
Love  was  My  teaching. 
Deaf  to  My  preaching 
Thou  prov'st  Me  a  fool. 

I,  on  the  wrong  quest, 
Sought  for  thy  heart. 
Take,  then,  thy  conquest, — : 
Kiss  Me,  and  part ! 

Go,  but  first  hearken, 
O  child  of  My  pain, 
Ere  the  day  darken 
Where  we  two  hang  slain : 
58 


THE  LEAVENED  BREAD 

Thou  dost  betray  Me : 
So  let  Me  die. 
But  when  men  slay  Me, 
And  I  hang  high 

Outside  the  city 
'Mid  mockings  of  men, 
Brother,  for  pity 
Think  of  Me  then! 

And  when  thou  hast  tasted 
Thy  lonelier  grave, 
Him  thou  hast  wasted 
Come  back  to,  and  save ! 

In  the  Potter's  Field 
When  thou  liest  dead, 
My  heart  in  thine 
Shall  be  buried. 

From  the  Potter's  Field, 
There,  where  it  lies. 
When  the  graves  yield 
My  Body  shall  rise. 
69 


THE  LEAVENED  BREAD 

And  men  shall  know 
When  the  grave  stands  riven 
How  that  thy  body 
To  Me  was  given. 

In  the  Potter's  Field 
When  men  love  thee, 
Then  shall  they  yield 
Their  hearts  unto  Me. 

Give  Me  thy  kiss,  brother 
Kiss,  and  be  dumb ! 
This  way  —  no  other  — 
My  Kingdom  shall  come. 


60 


THE  CROSSWAY 

I 

As  Christ  for  those  who  knew  not  what  they  did, 
So  these  3'our  sons,  for  you  their  mother  died. 

Now  in  that  wondrous  gift  your  guilt  lies  hid, 
And  in  your  blood  your  blame  stands  sanctified. 

O  Land,  behold  your  sons !     O  Sons,  behold 

Your  mother !     Her  proud  heart,  pierced  by  the 
sword, 
Still    bleeds    for    you:    still    to    the    blood-stained 
mould 
She  stoops  her  eyes  —  but  looks  not  at  her  Lord. 

n 
The  Lord  of  Life,  upon  the  day  He  died 
For  love,  between  two  thieves  hung  crucified. 
Of  whom,  with  bitter  railing,  one  spake  thus : 
"  If  Thou  be  Christ,  now  save  Tliyself  and  us !  " 
The  other  said :     "  Alike  condemned  we  be, 

61 


THE  CROSSWAY 

And  suffer  justly  for  our  sins ;  but  He 
Nothing  hath  done  amiss.     Remember  me, 
Lord,  in  Thy  kingdom  come!  "     Whereat  his  eyes, 
By  pure  humility  and  love  made  wise, 
Saw  out  of  Hell  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

Now,  of  these  twain,  ye  that  would  pray  take 
heed. 
And  choose  the  prayer  most  fitted  to  your  need ! 
Above  the  embattled  nations  Love  still  stands ; 
And  to  both  sides  He  stretches  out  His  hands. 


62 


THE  CRUSADER'S  TOMB 

O  NAMELESS  warrior,  whose  feet 
Have  borne  thee  to  thy  goal, 

Pray  thou  for  me,  while  dust  and  heat 
Lie  heavy  on  my  soul ! 

Here,  in  what  heritage  of  ease, 
The  years  give  rest  to  them, 

Because  of  old  thy  crossed  knees 
Knelt  in  Jerusalem ! 

And  tell  me,  were  the  gates  of  pearl? 

And  were  the  streets  of  gold? 
And  did  the  Tree  of  Life  unfurl 

Leaves  lovely  to  behold? 

Shone  she  with  jewels  round  about 

Her  deeply-founded  wall, 
Making  her  very  stones  cry  out 

Of  Love  who  died  for  all? 
63 


THE  CRUSADER'S  TOMB 

And  did  the  vision  of  that  Mount 

Kindle  in  thee  such  flame 
That  Grief  forgot  her  old  account 

When  home  the  warrior  came? 

And  did  the  face  of  past  desire 
Seem  then  an  empty  show, 

Giving  to  lips  which  once  were  fire 
A  form  more  white  than  snow? 

O  dear  acquaintance  of  that  spot, 
Befriend  an  exile's  prayer! 

So  shall  the  heart  that  sees  it  not 
Be  as  it  had  been  there. 

Let  far-off  good  which  was  my  trust 
Bring  healing  to  mine  eyes, 

Or  make  me  even  as  the  dust 
In  Holy  Land  that  lies ! 


64) 


ARMAGEDDON  —  AND  AFTER 

We  fought  at  Armageddon  for  the  freedom  of  the 
world : 
I  fought,  and  jou  fought,  and  here  our  bones  lie 
mixed. 
By  the  master-hands  which  held  us,  eastward  and 
westward  hurled, 
We  were  shattered,  we  fell  down,  for  the  place  and 
time  were  fixed. 

Tell   me,   O   brother   Bone,   what   here    remains   to 
know: 
Marched   we   as    comrades   then,    or   foemen,   ere 
we  died.-* 
Was  it  my  hand  or  yours  which  dealt  the  darkening 
blow: 
Was  it  your  hand  or  mine  which  turned  the  blow 
aside  ? 

Took   I   my    brother's    life:    what   better    life   was 
mine? 
Fought  I  for  freedom ;  —  of  freedom  so  bereft? 
65 


ARMAGEDDON  —  AND  AFTER 

Had  I  the  clearer  sight  to  read  the  Heavenly  sign? 
Had  I  the  cleaner  heart,  to  keep  ray  hands  from 
theft? 

We  fought  at  Armageddon   for  the  freedom  of 

mankind. 
And    while   we    fought,    behind    us    freedom    was 

bought  and  sold ! 
The  light  that  lit  these  sockets  is  out,  and  we  are 

blind. 
Now   with   blind   eyes   we   read;   now   with   dead 

hands  can  hold. 

Bone  to  my  bone  you  lie,  companion  of  my  pains ! 

What  link  of  life  is  this,  which  binds  us  wrist 
to  wrist? 
These,  brother,  these  are  not  links  but  only  chains. 

Worn  by  the  living,  that  dying  lips  have  kissed. 

Millions  we  marched ;  and  the  rattle  of  the  drums 
Drowned  the  rattle  of  our  chains,  and  the  shout- 
ing held  our  ranks. 
For  sweet  to  our  ears  was  "  The  conquering  hero 
comes," 
And  sweet  to  our  hearts  "  A  grateful  Country's 
thanks." 

66 


ARMAGEDDON  —  AND  AFTER 

We  fought  at  Armageddon  for  the  brotherhood  of 
Man; 
And  safe  within  their  fences  the  tricksters  plied 
their  trade. 
'Twas   the  old  fight  we  fought;   and  it  ends   as   it 
began : 
The    gamblers    held    their    hands    till    the    Last 
Trump  was  played. 

We    fought    at    Armageddon    for    the    freedom    of 
mankind : 
I  fought,  and  you  fought,  and  here  our  bones  lie 
strewn. 
The  flesh  is  stript  from  off  us,  the  chains  remain 
behind, 
And    the    freedom    Ihat    we    fought    for    is    an 
unremembered  tune. 


67 


III.    BEAUTIFUL  HEART 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 


RESTFUii   he    watches,    and    hears    the    trouble    of 

sleep, — 
Love,  the  shepherd  of  men,  with  his  gaze  set  far: 
Over  the  darkened  fold  and  the  herded  sheep, 
Round  the  breast  of  the  world  he  watches  a  Star. 


Under  him  earth  moves  slow;  far  off  lies  the  dawn; 
Comes  no  gleam  as  yet  through  the  darkness  felt : 
Naught  but  yon  Star  for  a  sign ;  till   (night  with- 
drawn) 
Faint  on  awakened  Heaven  the  Star  shall  melt. 

m 

Heart,  unto  Love  give  all,  and  the  rest  is  well ! 
Pain  thou  shalt  know,  and  sorrow, —  bear  grief  and 
scoxu; 

71 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

Yet  have  the  high  Gods  come  for  a  shrine  to  the 

shell; 
Thy  flesh  hath  endured  the  birth  for  which  Earth 

was  born! 


IV 

Beautiful  Heart,  no  rest  in  the  world  for  me ! 
Sleeping   I   find   thee   not,    and   waking   know   thou 

art  gone. 
Here  is  a  door  set  wide  for  a  coming  that  never 

shall  be; 
And  all  my  world  is  a  want  for  the  heart  that  I 

rest  not  on. 

V 

Beautiful  Heart,  ah!  hadst  thou  never  been  born 
Thus  attainless  to  me,  Love  would  have  spared  me 

this : — 
Hunger,   and  thirst,  and  longing,  the  gentle  light 

of  thy  scorn. 
And  coldly  from  mine  thy  gaze  turning  away  the 

bliss. 


72 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

VI 

Faithful  the  lover  cries,  "  Ah,  once  to  have  proved 
Life  in  the  quick  delight  of  the  flesh  that  was  then 

so  fair !  " 
Nay,  fond  heart,  not  so  shall  the  face  of  the  deep 

be  moved : 
Prove  thy  life  upon  this, —  a  joy  that  has  passed 

to  air  — ! 

vn 

Surely  the  ills  of  Earth  are  many,  and  meet  to  be 

borne ; 
Hunger,    and    thirst,    and    cold,    man's    body    was 

made  to  bear. 
But  oh,  for  the  ills  of  Heaven !  —  the  love  that  is 

paid  by  scorn, 
And  beauty  silent  and  flown  from  the  heart  that  it 

once  spoke  fair. 

vra 
Shall  I  go  sadder  now,  O  Beloved,  that  the  world 

holds  thee, — 
Breath  of  my  bliss  and  pain?     Was  once  to  have 
known  thee  loss? 

73 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

Sadder  I  needs  must  go,  since  ever  mine  eyes  now 

see 
Heights  I  may  not  attain,  gulfs  that  I  shall  not 

cross. 


rx 

Beautiful  Heart,  the  dawn  awakens  in  gold, — 
Light,  through  its  handmaid  air,  goes  glancing  free; 
Heaven  his  wealth  flings  wide.     With  joy  untold. 
Somewhere,   far   off   in   the   world,    day    shines    on 
thee. 

X 

Love,    like    a    mote,    leaps    forth    to    the    morning 

beam, — 
Down  he  glides,  then  up,  and  is  off  anew : 
Butterfly  Love,  adrift  on  a  golden  stream, 
Blessing  the  wide-eyed  day  that  awakens  you. 

XI 

Beautiful  Heart,   as   the   eyes   that   are  blind   love 

light. 
With   the  love   of    a  waterless  land   ere   the   rains 

appear, — 

74* 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

So  without  comfort  of  thee  I  attain  my  right, 

So  shall  my  hearij  by  its  hunger  to  thine  be  near. 


xn 

Rises   the  lark   with   the   dawn:   dull   earth   at  his 

feet 
Wakes,  and  kindles,   remote  from  the  sounds  that 

soar 
Upward    through    light.     But    oh,    more    distant, 

more  sweet. 
The  voice  of  my  lover  still  heard  —  that  I  hear  no 

more! 


xm 
Ah,    Love    divine,   why    then   hast    thou    given   me 

sense 
To  see,  and  hear,  and  clasp, —  feel  hunger  and  thirst? 
Let  me  have  help  of  these  ere  I  vanish  hence : 
For  man,  though  he  love  thee  after,  must  love  life 

first! 

XIV 

"  Open   thine   eyes,"   said   Love,   "  yea,   tune   thine 
ears, 

75 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

Reach  thy  hand   to   the  touch,   and   clasp,   and  be 

mied! 
Till  over  the  seas  of  desire,  so  tossed  by  fears, 
Comes   the   spirit   which   rules   when   the  waves   are 

stilled." 

XV 

Beautiful  Heart,  in  my  solitude  now  what  track 
Can  I  trace,  as  day  brings  day  with  never  a  word? 
Now,  when  the  voice  is  mute,  how  the  hours  come 

back 
Of  nights  when  you  lay  at  my  side,  and  no  sound 

was  heard. 


XVI 

Faces  of  careworn  men  that  in  field  and  street 
Pass  me  with  looks  resigned,  Love  lend  you  grace ! 
You,    as    you    pass    unknown,    have    quickened    my 

feet; 
Early  or  late,  we  come  to  the  resting-place. 

xvn 
Surely,  by  care  man  comes  to  the  wished-f or  goal ; 
Where   runs    the   furrow,   the   hope   of   the   harvest 
lies. 

76 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

Come,  then,  Care,  be  fellow  to  body  and  soul, 
Till  the  day  of  the  sheaves  brings  cover  for  breast 
and  eyes ! 

xvm 
Doubtless  Love  shall  return,  in  ways  unguessed. 
Out  of  the  past  comes  memory  bearing  sheaves ; 
There  when  I  turn,  and  heavy  of  heart  seek  rest 
Birds  of  passage  have  hung  all  night  in  the  eaves. 


XIX 

Beautiful  Heart,  having  held  can  I  let  thee  go? 
Nay !  for  with  vision  clear  I  count  my  gain. 
Forth  to  the  world's  far  ends  the  wind  shall  blow 
This    sliape    of    dust.     But    on    it    thy    touch    will 
remain. 

XX 

Oh,  common  dust,  blown  wide  through  the  world's 

highways, 
Naught  can  I  hold  in  scorn  that  I  touch  or  see ! 
May  not  some  lover's  arms, —  some  lover's  gaze  — 
Find  you  more  fair  than  ever  my  love  found  me? 


77 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

XXI 

Blindly  I  look  on  light  as   I  knelt  at  the   sacred 

knees, 
And,   gazing   through    eyes    daubed   thick   with   the 

healing  clay,  found  Love ! 
For  there,  to  left  and  to  right,  I  saw  men  walking 

as  trees. 
And  one  in  their  midst,  O  form  most  fair!     O  nest 

for  a  dove! 

xxn 

High  in  the  air,  like  clouds,  an  army  of  banners 

blew 
Over   the    heads    of   women    and   men   close-ranked 

for  fight: 
Where  thousands  came  marching  as  one,  there  first 

I  met  you, — 
And  suddenly  broke   on  my  blindness   a  vision   of 

light. 

xxm 

I  shall  not  see  that  City,  made  bright  by  the  boughs 

that  wave 
Green  in  the  golden  streets,  when  Nations  come  to 

be  healed: 

78 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

But    there,    where    the    ransomed    meet,    they    will 

march  by  a  dead  man's  grave; 
And  the  light  of  thy  love  they  have  found  will  shine 

on  the  potter's  field. 

XXIV 

Go,  rejoice  in  thy  strength,  fair  Branch,  and  with 

lifted  head 
Join  the  glad  throng  of  thy  fellows,  leap  up  into 

light  and  air! 
Here,   for   comfort  at  length,   I   have   found   me   a 

marriage-bed, — 
Darkness,  and  no  more  pain, —  a  rest  from  the  days 

that  were. 

XXV 

Beautiful   root   of  Life,   made   ready   and   quick   to 

grow, 
Take  from  me  this  gift, —  dark  mould  and  a  bed  of 

clay: 
So  shall  you  find  it  rife  with  the  sheddings  of  long 

ago,— 
Autumn's  fall,  and  the  drift  of  a  world  that  has 

learned  decay. 


79 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

XXVI 

Sightless  and  scentless,  here  lie  ghosts  of  lives  that 

like  you 
Had  beauty  of  form  and  limb,  and  the  grace  of  a 

thousand  dawns : 
They,  too,   tasted   the   cool  of  a  morning  crowned 

with  dew, — 
Heard,    when   the   world   first   woke,    the    voices    of 

upland  lawns. 


XXVII 

Few  are  the  years   thou  hast  known,  O   face  of  a 

thousand  springs ! 
Few  are  thy  years,  and  yet  this  year  to  thy  heart 

comes  grief. 
Gentle  to  me  in  its  stroke  that  breath  of  severance 

brings 
Down  from  thy  boughs  above,  to  my  heart  in  the 

mould  —  one  leaf ! 

xxvm 
Thou  at  my  heart  set  safe,  O   Beloved,  and  I  at 

thy  feet! 
Grant   me   this   lowest   place:   then   take    from   me 

80 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

All  that  thou  hast  of  need, —  convert  into  life  and 

heat 

These  ghosts  of  a  day  now  gone,  that  Love  sets 

free! 

XXIX 

Take,  though  nothing  remains  to  give  that  is  new ! 

This  mould, 
Bearing  the  taint  of  age,  lies  dark  and  sodden  as 

mud; 
Yet  once  in  a  former  time,  it  wore  the  colour  of 

gold, — 
And  red  in  the  loud  wind's  rage  these  drippings  of 

autumn's  blood. 


XXX 

What  pale  hand  is  this  that  touches  my  brow, 
Coming  so  late  to  loose  the  bars  of  my  cage? 
"  Back  from  life  in  the  past,  I  bring  to  thee  now 
Peace,  and  the  light  thereafter  —  the  gift  of  age. 

XXXI 

"  Life,  once  thine,  comes  now,  when  the  fever's  still. 
Back  on  the  flow  of  Time :  so  down  to  the  stream, 

81 


BEAUTIFUL  HEART 

Not  as  Narcissus,  stoop  and  attain  thy  fill; 
Look,  and  see  how  fair  of  face  was  the  dream ! " 


xxxn 
Here  is  to  mark  where  the  print  of  a  loot  hath  been ; 
So,  on  my  heart,  was  set  the  seal  of  thy  worth. 
Blessed,  indeed,  are  the  eyes  in  the  things  they  have 

seen! 
Can  I,  Beloved,  forget  how  the  feet  of  a  god  touched 

earth? 


Bft 


IV.    MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


EHEU,  FUGACES! 

MARY, 

First  Princess  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
(Born  April  1605;  Died  December  1607) 

When  Stuart  reigned,  ere  yet  began 
The  struggle  with  the  Puritan, 
Ere  King  and  Commons  met  for  fight 
O'er  regal  claim  and  chartered  right, — 
There  fell  a  day  when  tidings  spread 
How  for  the  royal  marriage-bed 
April  had  flowered ;  for  surely  then 
Life  was  as  blossom  to  man's  ken 
Around  that  birth ;  and  who  could  see. 
Where  laughing  courtiers  stooped  the  knee, 
How  in  the  days  so  soon  to  be 
Lay  pains,  and  penalties,  and  dread? 

And  so  through  chambers  where  more  late 
Her  brother  Charles  encountered  fate, — 
Careless  of  how  the  seasons  ran 
Those  toddling  feet  their  race  began, 
And  over  hearts  which  paved  a  way 
Balanced  their  weight  with  tender  sway. 
85 


EHEU,  FUGACES! 

Her  eyes  the  sunlight  did  absorb, 
The  spinning  world  became  her  orb 
Of  power  —  so  fair j-like  she  lit 
And  played  her  little  pranks  on  it; 
And  like  a  charioteer  in  chase, 
Urging  it  still  to  swifter  pace. 
Cried  to  the  rolling  wheels  below  — 
"  I  go,  I  go !     Away  I  go !  " 

Two  years,  a  spendthrift  in  her  joy. 
She  made  her  father's  Court  a  toy: 
The  wisest  statesman  was  her  fool, 
A  kingdom's  rulers  owned  her  rule 
In  laws  delightful  to  obey, 
When  so  like  gossamer  they  lay 
That  by  a  breath  goes  blown  away! 

Alas,  like  giver  and  like  gift! 
Quick  to  alight,  and  quick  to  lift 
And  vanish  from  its  fairy  form 
As  snow-flake  on  the  face  of  storm  — 
So  came  she  and  so  passed:  her  feast 
Of  love,  and  life,  and  laughter  ceased 
All  in  a  day ;  her  little  head 
Down,  down  she  laid  upon  a  bed, 
86 


EHEU,  FUGACES! 

And  tired  of  earth,  rejecting  care, 
Fluttered  her  baby  hands  on  air 
And  cried,  in  prophecy  of  woe, 
"  I  go,  I  go !     Away  I  go !  " 

With  fluttered  hands  and  words  like  wings, 
Thus  spake  she  her  last  soothsayings ; 
And  on  that  head  untouched  by  rime 
Light-handed  brothers,  Death  and  Time, 
Shook  down  a  single  flake  of  snow. — 
*'  I  go,  I  go !     Away  I  go  !  " 

Warm  snowflake  then  lay  kissed  by  cold. 
While  Earth  her  wintry  message  told; 
"  Ah !  snowflake,  look  not  here  for  thaw 
Nor  any  sunshine  that  can  draw 
Thy  sweetness  out !     Turn  back  and  blow 
Into  those  pleasant  fields  where  grow, 
With  wide  and  dew-embracing  eyes, 
The  waiting  flowers  of  Paradise: 
Into  their  hearts  let  fall  th}'^  snow ! " 
"  I  go,  I  go  !     Away  I  go !  " 

So  runs  the  tale :  of  all  her  pains 
And  pleasures  this  alone  remains, — 
87 


EHEU,  FUGACES! 

This  wing-like  cry,  this  answering  word 

To  some  remote  and  secret  bird 

That,  gazing  with  prophetic  eyes 

From  the  bright  bowers  of  Paradise, 

Saw  in  the  dreadful  years  ahead, 

Joy  withered,  mirth  disowned  and  dead. 

And  beauty  disinherited. 

So  with  a  heart  of  grace  made  wise 

To  perils  undiscerned  by  man. 

Quick  at  that  fluted  note  she  flies 

The  coming  of  the  Puritan ! 

The  grief,  the  gallantry,  the  grace. 

The  ghosts  of  her  ill-fated  race 

And  all  its  pageantry  of  woe, 

Here  mingled  for  a  moment  show. 

While  to  the  ear  that  hearkens  cries 

The  seer  in  the  babe's  disguise 

(Of  crowns,  so  soon  to  be  laid  low!), 

"  I  go,  I  go !     Away  I  go !  " 

Through  the  fixed  slabs  of  mouldered  tombs 
This  single  blossom  breaks  and  blooms ; 
Crowned  with  that  cry,  it  passes  hence 
Immortal  in  its  transience. 
88 


EHEU,  FUGACES! 

So  with  eternal  waft  of  wing 
Fleets  over  earth  the  breath  of  spring, 
And  through  each  mood  in  motion  free 
Reveals  its  immortality. 


69 


CRADLE-SONG 

Sleep,  my  babe,  your  road  of  dreams 
By  the  fire-flies  shall  be  lighted : 

See  them  link  their  tingling  teams 
Round  you,  lest  you  go  be-nighted ! 

Off  to-night  your  father  flies 
Honey  from  the  stars  to  bring: 

Star-town,  ah,  how  far  it  lies! 
Thither  he  goes  travelling. 

But  at  daybreak,  big  with  news, 
Backward  riding  he  shall  come, 

Bright  of  hoof  across  the  dews, 
Beating  on  a  golden  drum ! 


90 


«  WITHERSHINS  " 

A  WITCHCRAFT  CASE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH 
CENTURY 

Once,  upon  the  spring  of  day 
On  the  summer  side  of  May, 
Good  men  faring  forth  to  toil, 
Ere  the  sun  had  warmed  the  soil, 
Found  an  old  crone,  withered,  worn, 
Sitting  by  a  field  of  corn. 

There  amid  the  springing  green 

Of  the  young  blades  she  was  seen 

Bending  an  attentive  head 

To  the  new  year's  make  of  bread. 

And  wherever  wheat  stood  high, 

Testing  it  with  careful  eye 

And  brown  fingers,  lean  and  long, 

Thus  she  crooned  her  wheat-ear  song: 

"  When  the  corn  turns  withershins. 
Short's  the  yield  which  there  begins ; 
91 


«  WITHERSHINS  " 

But  when  sun-gates  bends  the  knee 

Plenty  shall  the  reaping  be. 

Only  withcrshins  be  here : 

Folks  will  starve  and  bread  be  dear !  " 

So,  with  old  eyes  on  the  young 
Blades  of  corn,  she  sat  and  sung. 
And  those  good  men,  passing  near, 
Heard  her  song  and  shook  for  fear: 
And,  the  better  to  win  ease, 
Haled  her  to  the  justices, — 
All  because  on  that  May  morn, 
Weatherwise,  she  sang  the  corn! 

So,  for  singing  of  that  same, 
Charged  and  tried,  she  went  to  flame. 
And,  to  prove  them  right,  that  year 
People  starved,  and  bread  was  dear ! 

Oh,  full  many  an  English  field 
Have  I  walked,  and  watched  the  yield  — 
Starved  and  stunted,  because  still 
"  Withershins  "  is  how  men  will : 
'Gainst  the  light  they  sin  and  sin, 
Turning  to  the  dark  within 
92 


'« WITHERSHINS  " 

(Each  so  set  to  have  his  way) 
From  the  wholesome  hght  of  day ! 

And  above  the  cornfield  bends 
An  old  crone,  whose  peaceful  ends 
Men  must  still  traduce.     Her  ghost, 
Wasted  lives,  and  harvests  lost, 
Mark  upon  the  fields  of  Time 
How  continuous  a  crime 
Is  the  justice  man  has  done 
"  Withershins  " —  against  the  sun ! 


93 


THE  IRON  AGE 

O  YE,  that  seek  through  blood  and  tears 
The  justice  which  kind  earth  hath  lacked, 

Marvel  not  ye  because  man  fears 
To  drop  his  old  coercion  act. 

Whose  record  in  the  past  was  dark 
Sees  darkness  in  the  future,  too ; 

Because  with  iron  he  made  his  mark. 
And  by  that  same  brand  he  judges  you. 

The  unborn  age  afflicts  his  mind. 
Of  powers  misused  he  stands  afraid ; 

Haunted  he  goes,  and  hears  behind 
The  worn  and  wasteful  past  upbraid. 

His  stripes  ye  bear ;  but  when  ye  gain 

Your  victory  —  then  comes  recompense, 

And  ye  shall  mend  his  muddled  brain 
With  comfortable  common  sense. 

94 


THE  BALLAD  OF  DEAD  JUDGE  JEFFREYS 

Will  this  be  true?     Oh,  it  sounds  like  true ! 
Is  Jeffreys  dead  at  last? 
They  say  that  the  breath  he  drew  for  death 
Went  out  like  a  furnace  blast. 

They  say  he  cried  so  horribly. 
That  no  one  durst  come  nigh; 
But  only  a  bat  and  an  old  grey  rat 
Sat  up  to  see  him  die. 

They  came  at  morn  and  found  him  dead, 
Alone  on  his  truss  of  straw: 
And  the  hair  stood  up  on  the  corpse's  head 
At  that  which  the  dead  eyes  saw. 

So  horribly  the  dead  eyes  stared ;  — 
That  last  sight  had  so  frozen  them, — 
That  not  a  man  or  woman  dared 
Reach  out  a  hand  to  close  on  them. 
95 


DEAD  JUDGE  JEFFREYS 

And  the  body,  so  twisted  and  torn  about 
By  all  the  fear  and  hate  in  him, — 
When  the  women  came  to  lay  him  out 
They  couldn't  even  straighten  him. 

For  out  of  the  earth,  like  a  great  black  mole, 
The  Devil  had  come  from  Hell  for  him ; 
And  when  the  sexton  went  to  toll, 
The  church-bell  wouldn't  knell  for  him. 

So  ill  a  death  he  had  to  die, 
It  surely  had  been  kept  for  him : 
And  blind,  indeed,  had  been  the  eye, 
Had  anybody  wept  for  him ! 

Down  in  the  ground  where  he  now  lies 
The  long  safe  grass  shall  cover  him; 
And  every  bird  in  air  that  flies 
Shall  pass  with  a  wide  wing  over  him. 

Judge  JeiFreys,  Judge  Jeffreys, 
So  now  you're  dead  and  done ! 
And  freely  again  falls  down  the  rain, 
And  easily  shines  the  sun. 


96 


THE  WOOD-MAZE 

In  the  forest  day  by  day 
I  and  Bird-in-hand  would  play. 
Hide-and-seek,  or  touch-and-go 
Kept  us  running  to  and  fro, 
Happy  on  forbidden  ground: 
Lovely  dangers  lurked  around. 

Thus  one  day  her  game  began: 
"  Catch  me,  catch  me,  if  you  can ! 
Catch  me !     Catch  me !  "     To  her  side 
Running  quickly,  oh,  I  tried !  — 
Saw  her  dancing  up  and  down, 
Bobbing  curls  and  eyes  of  brown. 

Light  of  heart,  and  light  of  foot, 
Sprang  she  from  the  hazel-root, 
Climbing  through  the  hazel-boughs 
Up  into  the  fairies'  house: 
There  a  moment  cried  her  fill, — 
"  Catch  me !     Catch  me !  "     Then  was  still. 
97 


THE  WOOD-MAZE 

And  the  fairies,  green  and  gold, 
Lighted  down  and  took  soft  hold 
Of  my  dear ;  and  like  a  leaf 
Up  in  air  —  oh !  fairy  thief, 
Fairy  thief !  —  away  sprang  she, 
Never  to  come  back  to  me. 

In  the  forest  now  all  day, 
Watching  how  the  branches  sway, 
All  alone  with  mother-wit 
Here  beneath  the  boughs  I  sit 
And  look  up ;  and,  when  the  breeze 
Stirs  the  leaves  upon  the  trees, 
Know  that  she  is  one  of  these. 

"  Catch  me !     Catch  me !  "  day  by  day 
That  is  what  they  seem  to  say  — 
Fairy  leaves  of  green  and  gold. 
Light  comes  down  and  takes  soft  hold, — 
Withers  them ;  and  then  comes  wind, — 
Shakes  them ;  how  the  woods  are  thinned ! 

Underneath  the  hazel  shade 
Here  a  bed  of  leaves  I've  made. 
Comfort,  comfort,  oh !  come  down, 
Bobbing  curls  and  eyes  of  brown! 
98 


THE  WOOD-MAZE 

Let  us  end  as  we  began: 

Catch  me  !     Catch  me,  if  you  can ! 

Leaf,  I  cannot  tell  apart. 

Grief  for  thee  hath  stretched  my  heart. 

Every  leaf  that  I  see  fall 

Now  I  love ;  I  keep  them  all. 

Little  comforts  —  such  a  crumb !  — 

"  Catch  me !     Catch  me !  " —  down  they  come. 

Long  it  takes  to  make  the  bed 
Where  together  we  lie  wed. 
All  alone  with  mother-wit 
Here  beneath  the  boughs  I  sit : 
Down  they  come !  and  when  the  breeze 
Lifts  the  last  leaf  from  the  trees, 
I  shall  have  her  —  one  of  these ! 


99 


CONCERNING  KISSES 

Kisses,  kisses,  what  are  ye? 

Atoms  of  felicity ; 

Offshoots  of  a  life  that's  fleeting, 

Ages  long  a  moment  meeting, 

Showing,  in  a  nick  of  time, — 

Better  than  in  seasoned  rhyme. 

Or  than  any  old  wife's  saying, — 

Kindness  more  than  wisdom's  weighing 

Counts,  but  cannot  count  the  paying. 

Youth  and  age  herein  are  one, 

And  nothing's  new  beneath  the  sun. 

Kisses,  kisses,  what  are  ye? 
Sweet  to  hear,  and  touch,  and  see. 
Is  it  sense  ye  thrive  upon. 
Lacking  which  the  rest  were  gone? 
Or,  were  man  of  sense  bereft. 
Would  there  still  be  kisses  left? 
100 


CONCERNING  KISSES 

Oh,  were  I  deaf,  or  dumb,  or  blind, 
Should  I  yet  not  have  a  mind  — 
Kisses,  kisses,  with  a  will. 
To  receive  and  render  still  ? 


Kisses,  kisses,  what  say  ye?' — 

Have  ye  any  eyes  to  see : 

Have  ye  hearts  between  your  wings 

As  ye  fly  and  leave  your  stings. 

Playing,  with  such  tender  show. 

Teasing  games  of  touch-and-go  ? 

Do  the  senses  ye  infect 

Find  reward  in  retrospect; 

Or  in  foretaste,  fancy  free, 

Miss  the  sweets  of  memory? 

Kisses,  kisses,  ye  can  be 
Fickle,  faithful,  bond  or  free ; 
Tongue-tied  tales  of  love  unchanged, 
Trimmings  to  a  taste  outranged, 
Tenders  taken  on  approval. 
Fixtures  subject  to  removal. 
Wayside  weeds,  or  planted  plots, 
Pick-me-quicks ;  forget-me-nots, 
101 


CONCERNING  KISSES 

Weak  as  water,  red  as  wine, 
Nectar-draught  or  anodyne. 
Mixture,  taken  as  before. 
Thrice  a  day, —  or  nevermore ! 

Kisses,  kisses,  off  and  be 
What  ye  will, —  the  choice  is  free ! 
Sweets  in  surreptitious  corners, 
Lucky  plums  for  good  Jack  Horners, 
Honey-sweet  or  stony-hearted, 
Welcome  change  or  dear-departed, 
Unforeseen  or  long-expected, 
Modest,  coy,  demure,  dejected. 
Pretty  poutings,  dainty  purses. 
Nesting-places,  covert  curses. 
Oft-times  thefts,  but  sometimes  prizes,- 
Such  a  many  makes  and  sizes: 
Why  should  I  the  risk  refuse. 
If  I  still  can  pick  and  choose? 

I  have  found  in  your  embraces 
Such  avowals,  such  fair  faces. 
Such  concealments,  such  disguises, 
Such  assurance,  such  surprises, 
102 


CONCERNING  KISSES 

Such  dear  safety,  such  sweet  dangers, 
Such  familiars,  such  kind  strangers,— 
Oh,  if  such  sweet  things  were  not, 
Better  man  stayed  unbegot, — 
Courtship  better  unconceived 
Than  so  robbed,  bereft,  and  grieved ! 

When  on  Jordan's  banks  I  stand. 
Back  to  Life  I'll  kiss  my  hand; 
When  I  draw  my  latest  breath. 
Then  I'll  blow  a  kiss  to  death. 


103 


THE  OLD  MOON 

Beautiful   old   Moon!   a   sennight   ago   thou   wast 

young: 
Now  from  west  unto  east  the  weight  of  thy  head 

is  hung. 
Ah,  Moon,   Moon !  where   in   the  world   hast   thou 

been, 
To  grow  so  old  in  a  week?     What  in  the  world  hast 

thou  seen? 

And  it  seems  that  I  hear  her  say,  "  Two  lovers  lay 

heart  to  heart. 
Only  a  week  ago ;  and  now  I  have  watched  them 

part." 
Only  a  week  ago  ?     To  me  it  seems  as  a  year : 
Autumn  has  gone,  and  winter  has   come;  and  the 

woods  are  sere.  ^ 

Ah,  Moon,  Moon !     When  thy  head  was  turned  to 

the  west, 
There,  on  the  heart  of  my  love,  surely  my  heart 

had  rest ! 

104. 


THE  OLD  MOON 

But  now  thou  hangest  thy  head  to  the  gleam  of  the 

eastern  sky ; 
And  I  dream  and  wish  I  were  dead,  so  restless  of 

heart  am  I ! 


105 


ABSENT  AND  PRESENT 

Thkough  morning  meads  we  broke  the  dew, 
And  heard  the  hidden  skylark  sing, 

Oh,  goodly  sound,  when,  having  you, 
I  wanted  for  no  other  thing! 

And  ah,  how  plainly  cried  his  tongue  — 

"  All  grief  is  old,  all  joy  is  young! " 

Through  moving  mists  around  the  wood 
The  daylight  came  in  grey  disguise, 

A  pallid  ghost.     Then  as  we  stood, 
I  marked  the  hunger  of  your  eyes ; 

And  all  your  thoughts  had  flown  away, 

Back  to  the  East  and  far  Cathay ! 

For  ever  in  your  veins  must  run 
The  rover's  blood,  so  strange  to  me ! 

You  heard  the  call ;  you  saw  the  sun 
Rise  red  across  the  Indian  sea ; 

So  sundered  stood  we,  side  by  side  — 

Two  fates  which  seas  and  lands  divide ! 
106 


ABSENT  AND  PRESENT 

And  now  alone  through  twilit  mead, 
I  break  the  dew :  yet  not  alone, 

Still,  as  the  skylark  sings,  I  read 
As  fair  a  meaning  in  its  tone; 

For  now  he  sings  of  you,  my  dear, 

"  The  near  is  far,  the  far  is  near !  " 


107 


IN  A  GARDEN 

In  the  twilight  carols   a  bird.     It  is   March  here 

still : 
The  boughs  hang  bare,  and  the  earth  and  the  air 

are  chill. 
And  —  had  I  my  will  —  have  I  any  song  to  be  heard : 
Any  voice  to  make  others  rejoice  —  not  a  word.'' 

Not  a  word! 

His  heart,  out  of  gladness  within,  pours  gladness 

without. 
No  nook  in  this  garden  that  hears  him  —  no  alley 

or  glade  — 
But   sounds   like  the   arbours    of   Eden   while  he   is 

about : 
His  voice  in  the  garden  is  God's,  and  has  made  me 

afraid. 

"  Where  are  you  ?     Where  are  you  ?  "  he  cries.     "  I 
am  here !     I  am  here !  " 
108 


IN  A  GARDEN 

Comes  a  voice  out  of  cover  responding :  —  alas,  but 

not  mine ! 
I  have  eaten  the  bread  of  the  wise,  I  am  drunken 

with  care; 
I  know  I  am  mortal.     But  he,  that  knows  not,  is 

divine. 


109 


LOVE  AT  THE  FARM 

The  little  birds  in  copse  and  hatch, 

Were  singing  as  their  throats  would  break ; 
The  little  nestlings  in  the  thatch 

Were  crying  hungrily  awake ; 
The  little  bantam  on  the  green, 

With  sunlight  ruddy  in  his  comb, 
Went  strutting  eager  to  be  seen: 

And  thou,  my  love,  wast  coming  home  1 

The  beauteous  warbling  of  the  birds, 

The  simple  things  they  had  to  say, 
The  callow  beaks,  so  full  of  words. 

Did  make  a  music  of  the  day; 
That  bit  o'  sunbeam  bright  as  blood. 

So  like  a  feather  in  the  comb. 
Through  all  creation  seemed  to  flood, 

When  thou,  my  love,  wast  coming  home. 
110 


LOVE  AT  THE  FARM 

Oh,  what  a  holding  has  the  heart 

To  make  the  little  seem  so  great! 
The  lagging  minutes  tick  apart, — 

And  every  tick's  an  hour  to  wait ! 
And  all  my  heart  goes  up  and  down 

Like  to  a  ship  upon  the  foam, 
And  perilous  far's  the  way  to  town, 

When  thou,  my  dear,  art  coming  home ! 

Be  earth  so  little,  and  sun  so  great, 

As  wise  astronomers  have  said :  — 
Together  at  eve  they  meet  and  mate, 

And  rosy,  rosy  is  the  bed. 
The  lonely  star  which  lights  the  sky. 

The  glow-worm  biding  in  the  gloam, 
Oh,  what  be  these  but  thou  and  I  ?  — 

And  thou,  my  dear,  art  coming  home. 


Ill 


THE  TWO  LOVES 

When  curfew-bells  begin, 

And  the  log-fire  hisses, 
I  covered  Jeannie  in 

From  head  to  foot  with  kisses. 

There,  in  the  glow 

And  flicker  of  the  ingle, 

I  gave  her  for  to  know 
How  a  man  loves  single: 

I  gave  her  for  to  know, 

When  the  heart  needs  mating. 
How  hard  a  road  to  go 

Was  the  long  lone  waiting. 

Her  face  was  all  a  mist. 
Her  dear  eyes  tear-laden, 

To  find  herself  so  kissed. 
And  man  so  love  a  maiden. 
112 


THE  TWO  LOVES 

Ah!  but  she  did  love! 

With  kind  lips  so  quiet, 
While  my  heart  above 

Was  all  storm  and  riot. 

And  looking  deep  I  saw, 

In  all  its  woman's  meaning, 

How  her  heart  would  draw 

My  heart  to  have  its  leaning. 

For  my  heart  was  fain, 
Oh,   fain   to   be    a-mating; 

But  hers  saw  the  pain 
Of  the  long  lone  waiting. 

So  there,  in  the  light. 
Beside  the  dying  ember, 

I  gave  her  all  that  night 
My  kisses  to  remember. 

■  .  •  •  • 

A  cold  dawn  came ; 

Then  parted  our  embraces; 
We  blew  the  ash  to  flame 

On  tear-wet  faces ; 
113 


THE  TWO  LOVES 

We  drank  the  last  cup 

And  we  shared  the  last  platter ; 
And  pale  the  light  went  up, 

And  birds  began  to  chatter. 

And  then  she  oped  the  door, 
And  there  I  left  her  standing. 

As  I  went  down  to  the  shore 
To  the  ship  beside  the  landing. 

And  far  out  from  sea 

I  saw  the  white  shawl  flutter. 
As  her  hand  waved  to  me 

The  thoughts  she  could  not  utter. 

Oh !  a  man's  love  is  strong 
When  fain  he  comes  a-mating. 

But  a  woman's  love  is  long 
And  grows  when  it  is  waiting. 


114 


A  SONG  OF  THE  DALES 

Up  the  long  dale  flowing 

The  sunlight  came  like  wine, 
And  through  the  green  meads,  lowing. 

With  Sally  came  the  kine. 
She  came  up  the  dale 

As  I  was  on  the  hill; 
And  I  stood  and  gave  a  hail, 

Crying  "  Sally  !  "  with  a  will. 

Away,  so  like  a  bird, 

And  all  along  the  hill, 
Here,  there,  in  flight  I  heard 

The  echo  of  it  still. 
Fainter  and  fainter  gone, 

My  voice  rang  far  and  wide; 
By  pitch  and  peak  it  rambled  on. 

And  "  Sally !     Sally !  "  cried. 

She  turned,  she  looked  up ; 
I  saw  her  face  shine, 
115 


A  SONG  OF  THE  DALES 

Golden  as  a  buttercup, 

A  cup  all  filled  with  wine. 
She  drew  a  kerchief  from  her  gown, 

And  waved  it  with  a  will ; 
And  all  about  and  up  and  down 

My  voice  echoed  still. 

The  woods  and  hills  were  naming  her 

With  musical  repeat: 
An  easy  way,  acclaiming  her, 

To  make  the  dale  sound  sweet! 
And  "  Sally  !     Sally !  "  goes  the  cry. 

And  dies  among  the  hills ; 
But  in  the  heart  that  lets  it  lie 

It  doubles  as  it  stills. 

When  up  the  eastern  valley. 

The  sunlight  brims  like  wine, 
Oh,  sweet  with  news  of  Sally 

Comes  the  lowing  of  the  kine ; 
When  cow-bells  tinkle,  "  Up-come-up !  " 

Like  chimes  they  seem  to  me ; 
In  meadows  full  of  buttercup 

'Tis  her  face  I  see. 
116 


A  SONG  OF  THE  DALES 

And  "  Sally  !     Sally !  "  my  heart  cries. 

Till  all  the  hills  repeat; 
And  far  the  fancy  of  it  flies 

To  make  the  whole  world  sweet. 
For  since  to  that  kind  heart  I've  won, 

She's  neither  here  nor  there ; 
She's  where  the  rising  day  doth  run, 

Where  stars  in  the  night  shine  fair, 
She's  in  the  buds  when  spring's  begun, 

And  birds  begin  to  pair; 
She's  over  the  dale,  and  out  in  the  sun. 

And  abroad  in  the  blowing  air ! 


m 


CORIN  AT  THE  GATE 

To  Eden  fast  gated, 

Heart-broken,  belated, 
Corin  came  weeping;  ashamed  was  he. 

On  turret  and  border. 

Attentive  to  order. 
Stood  watcher  and  warder,  a  wonder  to  see ! 

Quoth  he,  "  O  ye  Powers 

Who  stand  in  high  towers. 
And  bring  to  yon  bowers  the  captive  set  free, 

Let  your  bright  sentry 

Oppose  not  my  entry. 
For  Phillada  yonder  sits  weeping  for  me." 

Questioned  a  hearer: 

"  From  Eden  what  bearer 
Of  fables  has  told  me  a  wonder  so  wise? 

What  sorrow  of  mortals 

Can  enter  these  portals, 
Or  come  to  draw  tears  out  of  Phillada's  eyes? 

118 


CORIN  AT  THE  GATE 

"  Nay,  if  ye  show  not," 

Quoth  Corin,  "  I  know  not 
The  way  ;  yet  the  truth  of  it  surely  I  know  ! 

I  that  did  treason 

To  love  without  reason, 
Did  yet  for  a  season  find  pleasure  below: 

Found  it,  and  lost  it: — 

For  ever  there  crossed  it 
A  shadow  from  realms  were  no  shadow  should  be. 

Paradise  painless 

Around  her  lay  stainless  ; 
Yet  Phillada  yonder  was  weeping  for  me !  " 

Quoth  Michael,  "  0  Corin, 

Unfriended  and  foreign. 
Foul  are  thy  feet;  with  what  eyes  canst  thou  see?" 

"  One  thing  I  see  plainly," 

Quoth  Corin,  "  though  vainly : 
How  Phillada  mainly  sits  weeping  for  me! 

Love  stays  not  her  weeping. 

Love  holds  in  his  keeping 
Those     eyes     which     unsleeping     have     pitied     my 
pains ; 

119 


CORIN  AT  THE  GATE 

Unslain  by  the  glory 
Which  dazzles  before  me, 
The  love  which  she  bore  me  for  ever  remains." 


"  Her  weeping  is  painless," 

Quoth  Michael,  "  and  stainless 
By  grief  is  the  fountain  which  brims  in  those  eyes. 

With  laughter  and  singing 

Her  spirit  up-springing 
For  ever  goes  winging  its  way  to  the  skies." 

"  Does  life  in  this  garden," 

Quoth  Corin,  "  so  harden 
Your  hearts   that   ye   read  not  her  heart   which   is 
free  ? 

Since  Eden  prevents  not, 

Of  love  she  repents  not. 
And  gladly,  not  sadly  sits  weeping  for  me. 

But  since  ye  now  spurn  me, 

To  torment  I'll  turn  me. 
And  devils  shall  teach  me  how  love  was  a  lie. 

But  the  dear  heart  ye  cherish 

Will  dwindle  and  perish. 
And  Phillada's  fountain  will  all  run  dry !  " 

120 


CORIN  AT  THE  GATE 

Then  Michael  down  drifted, 

And  caught  and  uplifted 
Corin  the  sinner  from  paths  of  pain: 

Swift,  ere  he  waited, 

The  portals  ungated : 
Like  chiming  of  bells  was  the  fall  of  their  chain. 

And  lo,  as  they  entered 

Where  Paradise  centred, 
A  vision  of  light  amid  light  made  dim, 

Lovely  and  painless. 

By  sorrow  made  stainless, 
Yonder  sat  Phillada  weeping  for  him! 

This  is  the  wonder : 

In  Heaven,  and  under. 
Sinner  and  saint  in  their  loves  agree. 

While  sinner  goes  bleeding, 

All  Eden  is  pleading; 
And  Phillada  there  sits  weeping  for  me! 


121 


COMPARISONS 

Shall  I  with  lowlier  things  compare 
What  in  thy  face  I  find  more  fair?  — 
Say  — "  cherry  lips,"  or  "  cheek  of  rose  '* : 
Defaming  Thee  by  honouring  those? 

0  Thou,  most  heavenward  from  thy  birth, 
Shall  I  so  bring  thee  back  to  earth? 

Nay,  but  the  rose  more  sweet  shall  be 
With  distant  memories  of  thee: 
Red  hanging  fruit,  removed  from  reach. 
To  lips  disdaining  touch  or  speech 
Semblance  may  show  of  likeness  tried, — 
In  part  achieved,  but  more  denied. 

For  beauty  of  the  better  part 
Comes  not  from  surface  but  from  heart; 
Well-flavoured  fruit,  soft-scented  flower 
Fill  with  delight  their  passing  hour : 
But  thine  —  the  beauties  I  more  prize  — 

1  know  not  where  their  sweetness  lies. 

122 


COMPARISONS 

Years  hence  (when  vanished)  these  will  grow 
More  sweet  than  any  sense  may  show ; 
So,  in  that  dear  defeat,  mine  eyes 
Being  opened  shall  become  more  wise! 
Ah,  Rose!     Ali,  Cherry!     Hear  me  tell — ■ 
Best  beauty  stays  invisible ! 


123 


SIGNS  AND  WONDERS 

If  of  my  love  you  seek  a  sign, 

Her  fair  encountered  face  to  know, 

Oh,  learn  of  other  lips,  not  mine, 
The  marks  by  which  to  go ! 

So  fair  is  she,  so  fair  is  she. 

When  down  to  evening  sets  the  sun, 
For  fear  lest  parted  they  should  be 

His  colour  to  her  face  doth  run. 

So  sweet  is  she,  so  sweet  is  she. 

That  every  air  which  round  her  blows 

Hangs  laden  like  a  honey-bee. 

As  in  her  breast  he  comes  and  goes. 

So  fond  is  she,  so  fond  is  she. 
That,  every  time  we  kiss  and  part. 

More  freely  she  bestows  on  me 

The  deep  possessions  of  her  heart. 


SIGNS  AND  WONDERS 

So  blind  is  she,  so  blind  is  she, 

That,  when  beneath  her  looks  I  dwell, 

A  star-like  gaze  she  bends  on  me, 
And  without  measure  loves  me  well! 

If  of  that  love  you  seek  a  sign, 

That,  mounting,  you  her  heart  may  know,- 
Oh,  ask  of  angels'  lips,  not  mine, 

The  way  by  which  to  go ! 


125 


THE  PRAYER 

Pray  thou  for  me, 

Though,  of  Heaven  am  faithless : 
Pray  that  thy  power  may  be 

Loosed,  so  that  I  go  scatheless ! 
Not  to  the  Fates  above, 
But  to  thine  own  heart,  Love, 
Pray  till  thy  prayer  remove 

From  me  this  danger: 

So  that  I,  loosed  from  thee, 
Stand  separate  and  free 
Reft  of  my  deity, 

To  thee  a  stranger ! 


126 


SONG 

Oh,  why  wast  thou  my  love? 

And  why  was  I  thy  lover? 
I  keep  blue  skies  above : 

But  thou  —  dull  earth  for  cover. 
Then  what  had  Fate  to  prove, 
Save,  oh  !  —  the  far  remove 
Of  what  for  me  was  once  thy  love 

From  what  remains  thy  lover  ? 


127 


THE  LOVER'S  KNOT 

A  rival's  worth  I  must  admire, 

Or  not  in  rivalry  persist : 
Either  must  wish  his  virtues  higher, — 

Or  wish  that  they  did  not  exist. 

Thy  lover's  truth  I  will  adore ; 

Though  she  that  loves  him  loves  not  me. 
What?     Wish  him  false?     Then  were  I  more, 

Not  less  departed,  Dear,  from  thee ! 

For  since  thy  beauty  lives  to  make 
Valiance  more  flourish, —  evil  die : 

How  can  I  wish  thy  heart  should  take 
Delight  in  one  more  mean  than  I? 

And  what  were  meaner,  Dear,  than  this, — 
To  win  by  wishing  he  were  worse? 

Oh,  could  I  so  attain  thy  kiss, 

Then  Paradise  would  prove  a  curse. 
128 


THE  LOVER'S  KNOT 

But  since  to  bliss  I  may  not  win 
Till  from  thy  favour  he  remove: 

This  hope  I'll  cherish  as  my  sin  — 

That  he  for  thee  too  good  may  prove. 


129 


OLD  SWANAGE 

I  CAN  remember  the  day, 

(I've  got  the  look  on  it  still)  — 

I  can  remember  when  Swanage  lay 
Like  a  grey  cat  under  the  hill. 

Curled  in  close  by  the  shore, 

There  couldn't  have  been,  all  told, 

(If  you  went  to  count)  not  above  fourscore 
Of  houses ;  and  all  of  'em  old : 

All  stone,  all  native  rock, 

And  the  roofs  grey  tile  or  thatch ; 
And  never  a  door  where  you  had  to  knock, — 

You'd  only  to  lift  the  latch. 

New  Town,  it  be  all  brick-red, 

And  slippy  wi'  roofs  of  slate; 
And  Swanage  do  look  to  be  off  her  head, 

'Er's  been  getting  so  grand  o'  late ! 
130 


OLD  SWANAGE 

But  I  tell  'e  them  roofs  won't  last, — 

Nor  never  was  meant  to  do. 
Th'  old  roofs  was  here  when  the  Spaniards  passed 

In  fifteen  hundred  and  two !  ^ 

But  now  —  let  'em  build  their  best  — 

'Tis  only  built  for  the  lease, 
And  when  that  falls  in  it  falls ;  and  the  rest 

.0'  their  doings  be  all  of  a  piece. 

It  is  only  for  show,  not  wear. 

Strange,  that  with  none  to  see 
But  only  ourselves,  we  took  more  care 

To  have  things  as  they'd  ought  to  be. 

'Twas  quiet  in  these  parts  then, 

The  months  they  left  us  alone; 
And  ne'er  un  about  but  Purbeck  men 

Farming  or  working  the  stone. 

Round  under  Tilly  Whim  rocks, 

Or  out  with  nets  in  the  bay. 
Ye  could  hear  at  the  quarries  as  clear  as  clocks, 

The  stroke  of  their  picks  all  day. 
1  Local  date. 

131 


OLD  SWANAGE 

In  summer  we  did  have  some 

Of  the  quality  here  for  a  spell, 
And  county  families  used  to  come 

And  stay  at  the  "  Vic  "  Hotel. 

But  they  never  troubled  with  we, 

And  we  never  troubled  with  'en: 
They'd  go  and  they'd  have  their  dip  in  the  sea, 

And  be  off  on  their  own  agen. 

When  winter  blew  over  the  down 

There  was  never  a  stranger  showed; 

But  once  a  week  from  Wareham  town 
Come  the  coach  by  the  old  Corfe  road. 

Us  all  knew  all  on  us  then ; 

And  you  never  saw  on  the  street 
A  body  go  by,  one  day  out  of  ten 

As  you  hadn't  been  used  to  meet. 

Ah,  these  were  quietish  parts. 

And  quietish  folk  were  we, 
When  the  only  carts  were  the  quarrymen's  carts 

Rumbling  down  to  the  quay. 
132 


OLD  SWANAGE 

We  helped  to  build  London  town! 

And  don't  it  some'ow  seem  sad 
That  London  folk  should  'a'  brought  us  down, 

And  broke  up  the  homes  we  had? 

For  we've  changed,  there  isn't  a  doubt, 

Though  still  we  quarry  the  stone; 
But  the  trippers  come  in  and  the  trippers  go  out, 

And  'tisn't  the  place  we've  known. 

There's  only  one  thing  that  sticks, — 

The  rookery  up  at  the  Grange. 
They    knows    their    own    minds,    they    don't    never 
mix: 

The  rooks  haven't  made  no  change. 

And  here,  inside  o'  my  head, 

All  looks  as  it  used  to  do : 
But  come  the  day  I'm  counted  for  dead, 

Old  Swanage  '11  be  dead  too. 

For  I  can  remember  the  day, 

(I've  got  the  look  on  it  still.)  — 
I  can  remember  when  Swanage  lay 

Like  a  grey  cat  under  the  hill. 
133 


GAFFER  AT  THE  FAIR 

This  here  day,  it  be  fair  day, 

And  the  lads  be  all  on  the  green ; 

And  the  booths  and  the  shows  all  standing  in  rows. 

With  the  cocoa-nut  shies  between. 

There's  roundabouts,  and  the  showmen's  shouts, 

And  fiddlers  all  through  the  town ; 

And  your  heart  goes  up,  lad. 

But  my  heart  goes  down. 

The  boxing-booths  be  full  of  youths, 
And  the  market  a  prickle  o'  horns. 
And  chap  after  chap  climbs  up  to  the  trap 
Where  a  doctor's  cutting  their  corns. 
You  hear  the  sound  of  tb,c  merry-go-round, 
And  you  see  how  the  boats  are  swung; 
And  your  songs  are  to  sing,  lad, 
But  my  song  be  sung. 

There's  flying  leaps,  and  there's  picture-peeps. 
And  a  lion  as  none  can  tame ; 
134 


GAFFER  AT  THE  FAIR 

And,  added  to  that,  a  lady  so  fat 
Her  weight  you  never  could  name. 
'Tis  a  jolly  day  for  a  holiday, 
And  that  I  don't  deny ; 
But  your  days  are  to  come,  lad, 
And  my  day's  gone  by. 

And  everywhere  the  fun  of  the  fair 
You  can  buy  in  ha'penny  squirts  ; 
And  like  a  boy  you  make  it  a  joy 
To  spatter  the  hats  and  skirts ; 
And  each  girl  squeals  to  show  she  feels 
It's  a  treat  to  be  treated  so ; 
Ah!  your  spirits  be  up,  lad; 
But  my  spirits  be  low  ! 

I  don't  think  as  I  used  to  think, 
Nor  do  as  I  used  to  do; 
But  I  still  can  drink  as  I  used  to  drink, 
A  darned  sight  better  than  you ! 
You  care  a  lot  for  the  pewter  pot, 
But  you're  only  the  rag-tag  sort ; 
A  pint  of  stuff  for  you  is  enough, 
But  I'm  for  the  double  quart ! 

135 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ANCIENTS 

Oh,  young  blood  when  the  fever's  on 
Goes  paddling  in  the  Rubicon ; 
And,  wading  deeply  for  a  bit, 
Haply  he  cures  the  fever-fit. 

But  old  blood,  when  its  fevers  die, 
Comes  to  a  Rubicon  run  dry ; 
And  puzzled  so  much  mud  to  find. 
Regards  it  with  a  doubtful  mind. 

Yet  like  a  mud-lark  down  he  goes 
And  paddles  contemplative  toes  ; 
And  cries,  "  Oh,  what  a  dirty  joy ! 
To  think  I  did  it  when  a  boy !  " 

Then  out  of  that  infectious  mud. 

With  yellow  fever  in  his  blood, 

Mounts  horse,  and  preaches  from  the  saddle 

How  sad  and  bad  it  was  to  paddle ! 

136 


THE  MARATHON  RACE 

(1908) 

"  Rejoice,  we  conquer  !  "     So  from  Marathon  word 
Came,   by    the   fleetest   of   foot,   to    the   gates   of 
Greece. 
And  the  hills   of  Athens,  the  marble  mother,  were 
stirred, 
And  the  echo  thereof  to  the  life  in  her  womb  cried 
"Peace!" 

A  bubble  of  wine  from  those  lips,  and  a  city  was 
drunk 
With  the  sudden  joy  of  a  birth  when  its  throes  are 
past : 
Europe  is  saved  from  the  flood,  and  Asia  shrunk 
Back  to  her  borders  for  ever  while  Greece  shall 
last! 

While  Greece  shall  last !  —  while  joy  for  the  strength 
of  a  steed 
And  delight  in  the  limbs  of  a  runner  inspire  man's 
will, 

137 


THE  MARATHON  RACE 

So  long  in  our  midst  shall  be   found  the  Grecian 
breed, 
By  the  dark  Semitic  gods  unconquered  still. 

0  ghost  of  the  great  Pheidippides,  hear  that  shout 
Ringing  the  vast  arena !     You  they  acclaim  — 

You,  the  runner  of  old,  whose  life  went  out 

In  praise  of  your  gods,  young  lord  of  the  deathless 
name! 


138 


HEROES 

Fair    is    their    fame    who    stand    in    eartli's     high 
places, 
Rulers     of     men,     strong-armed     to     break     and 
bind. 
Fairer  the  light  which  shines  from  comrade  faces: 
Those  we  have  loved,  and  lost,  and  kept  in  mind. 

These  be  our  heroes,  hearts  unnamed  in  stor}', 
Foot-firm  that  stood,  and  swerved  not   from  tlie 
right ; 
TJiough  in  the  world's  eyes  they  attained  no  glory. 
Girt    to    their    goal    they    gained    the    wished-for 
height. 

Now  for  reward  no  after-age  shall  sunder 

Tiiese  from  their  right  to  rest  without  a  name. 
Wide    are    tlie    wings    of    heaven    which    fold    them 
under. 
Who  to  the  Winds  of  God  resign  their  fame. 
139 


HEROES 

Blow,    ye    great    Winds!     Where'er    man's     spirit 
labours 
Breathe    on    his    lips    breath    from    the    life    they 
spent ! 
Comrades  to  all  their  kind,  dear  friends  and  neigh- 
bours, 
There,    where    the    work    goes    well,    they    rest 
content. 

They  are  the  race, —  they  are  the  race  iumiortal. 
Whose  beams  make  broad   the   common   light  of 
day! 
Though  Time  may  dim,  though  Death  hath  barred 
their  portal, 
These  we  salute,  which  nameless  passed  away. 


THE    END 


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